<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Bird Watching by brightstarlings (gingerpunches)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820601">Bird Watching</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerpunches/pseuds/brightstarlings'>brightstarlings (gingerpunches)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Don’t Fear the Reaper ending, Established Relationship, Filipino Character, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Johnny is like a big brother to V and cat whistles when V and Kerry get into it, Joss is weird and I don’t like her, Kerry is not, Kerry’s yearning for domestic life, M/M, Major Character Injury, Panam is a bro, V does stupid things, V is trans in this, Vaginal Sex, V’s dying but don’t worry here lie only happy endings, for a bit, i promise this is more serious than it sounds, kerry worries, some blood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:48:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,029</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28820601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerpunches/pseuds/brightstarlings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kerry counts. The ways V smiles. His laughs, both quiet and boisterous. The freckles across his shoulders and the scars marring tender skin where gentle hands should create soothing memories instead. He counts the days they spend apart and the mornings V wakes coughing and the many sleepless nights he lies awake wondering if V is going to come back from what is thoroughly destroying him. </p><p>He counts. He waits. He wonders if he’s doing the right thing ticking down the moments they spend together like they’ll run out if he doesn’t watch them blow away like sand in the wind until one day —</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kerry Eurodyne/Male V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>222</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>edit: i have since fixed the chapter count error. this is a multichapter story. i apologize for the confusion! </p><p>this is... a behemoth. it started with part 2, which i am in the process of final edits, and everything else kind of... happened. there’s a lot of personal headcanon in this, mainly that:</p><p>kerry very much wants a “normal” domestic life with V. it’s heavily hinted at in the (don’t) fear the reaper/sun ending phonecall that he wants to spend quality time with V. he has it bad for him, and that’s the basis of kerry’s character in this </p><p>i kept V as plainly described as possible, but he does have an established look and some of that will come through in this. he is also trans. </p><p>otherwise, this is three parts, possibly four, with three already written/in the process of being edited. ill post them when theyre completed. as always, kudos and comments are appreciated :) thanks guys!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>After everything… they talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V seems hesitant to leave him alone. The fuck on the boat was nice, invigorating, but Kerry can sense a connection far beyond simple attraction. V seems to know this too — and thus, the lone merc circles, concerned in his own quiet way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, V isn’t like other mercs. Kerry hasn’t met many — was never a part of that world no matter his orbit around Johnny and Rogue — but he knows how they work. A merc, alone, was rare, and usually they didn’t survive long. In V’s case, he would probably live a long time simply because of his good intuition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Yet Johnny had to come and ruin that, too.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, V was soft-spoken. He could be loud, and his bursts of anger were usually justified. But he was quiet. Intuitive, and curious. V didn’t understand Kerry’s world, what made him live and breathe music where V inhaled bullets and exhaled death. V was a thief, a con, an excellent negotiator and a paid killer. Kerry would never begin to understand how a man of such terrifying talents could be so kind and patient when he really had no right to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the appeal, though. What drew Kerry closer even though he knew V was dangerous. V would never hurt him, but Kerry knew what the implants in his arms hid, what all the tech in his head could do. V was an edgerunner — a </span>
  <em>
    <span>killer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Johnny had terrorism in spades, but V could run circles around him with the gigs and schemes he’s done in his short twenty-seven years of life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was easy to be with V. Easy to talk to him, when they texted and called. V was sweet, sending little </span>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s when they went longer than a day seeing each other. He craved attention, Kerry knew, in the way someone desired it after spending so long without. Johnny probably made things worse, but V didn’t seem to mind — or honestly care — that his brainworm possibly didn’t enjoy V’s pleasurable distractions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Kerry didn’t care, either. It was hard to stay away when the merc made him feel so vibrant, so alive, after so long feeling like a shambling ghost of himself. His own career had hung over him like a guillotine, ready to cut loose and chop off his head for good, but V had stopped that too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V was everything, after that. Kerry was careful not to develop a codependence (he knew he had before with Johnny, knew its very real destructive power if he let it consume him), but V was the first person he really had any strong feelings for besides his kids. V was hurt, was trying all he could to solve his own problems, and still he had taken it on good faith with Johnny to come and help Kerry. He hadn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kerry, hadn’t cared about him beyond the fact that he mattered to Johnny. To Johnny fucking Silverhand, fifty years too dead and too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was enough. That was all it took, and now Kerry felt like he was on fire, burning out from the softest core of himself something fierce and bright. V was young and inexperienced with this — had said himself he’s not well-versed in relationships beyond a nice night spent in the arms of a stranger — but that was alright, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could make it work. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>made</span>
  </em>
  <span> it work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a like supreme. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We gotta stop meeting like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry huffs a laugh into his drink. V raises a brow at him, his expression faintly amused — he’s good at that, at schooling his beautiful features. Kerry supposes it’s a by-product of being an effective merc rather than any true intent at hiding from anyone, especially Kerry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? At coffee shops?” Kerry scoffs. “V, I like coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. At three in the fucking morning. Don’t you ever sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shrugs a shoulder. Poor kid has a point. V looks tired, like he ran around all day doing busy work instead of taking it easy like he should. But it’s harder for Kerry to meet during the day, harder to avoid the label and his forever-adoring fans. He was far too recognisable even in his stupid undercover getup, and he’d rather respect V’s own privacy by avoiding all that mess by doing this instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still. At least V was kind enough not to look too put out by it even as Kerry reaches across the table with his hand palm-up. “Make it up to you soon, I promise. But I did have a reason for dragging you out here so late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Early,” V points out. Playful, with a smile on his face. His palm slides into Kerry’s own, and Kerry threads their fingers together, squeezing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, early,” Kerry amends. He lowers his tone, more serious now. “Could’ve said no, V. If you needed to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head. His eyes sparkle with interest and still he doesn’t drop Kerry’s hand when he stands, tugging the merc up with him. “Said I would, didn’t I?” he says, low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry’s heart does a little flip. V is so quietly kind, so earnest. He leads V out of the twenty-four hour diner and into the parking lot, managing to speak around his heart in his throat despite it trying to choke him as it beats a loud tune of affection for this man beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you did, really,” Kerry says, earnest. Thankfully his voice doesn’t shake, but it still weighs heavy. He’s not sure he couldn’t ever not be earnest with V, now. “Got something nice lined up for you. Something I don’t think you’ll expect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V raises another questioning brow at Kerry as he turns to gauge his reaction. “Okay,” V says slowly. “Is it in this parking lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. “Sure. It’s your car, right over there. Spin for me? I want to get the pretend look of surprise on your face just right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sets V’s eyes rolling. “Uhhuh.” Kerry snickers — God, does he like teasing V. His expressions are delicious when he’s trying to act annoyed. “‘M I driving or are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Kerry says. “Got a knack for wrecking cars. Wouldn’t want to ruin your ride.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’ve heard,” V hums. He steps into the driver’s side of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cthulhu</span>
  </em>
  <span>, inserting the chip to start it as Kerry climbs in beside him. He likes V’s cars, likes his taste in things that growl and go fast. Likes that V reaches across the center console to take his hand, too, like he’s also seemingly unable to let them go for too long without touching. Kerry basks in it as he directs V out of the parking lot and onto the streets, urging him out further and further from the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another van full of instruments?” V guesses after a few minutes of driving. Kerry snorts, shaking his head, biting his lip at V’s teasing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kidnapping plot? Blackmail?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hums. He’s quiet for a minute, then he flicks a smirk at Kerry that makes his blood flash hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Nother yacht?” V says, tone warm, low. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry pretends neither of them notice his shudder at V’s unstated question. “Maybe. If you’re good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smile is all teeth as he turns back to the road. “I can live with that, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did say no more shady schemes,” Kerry reminds. And then, a little more serious, “Y’know, I can be serious. About this. Us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His insecurity must show on his face — or V really had been a couple steps ahead of Kerry — because V’s fingers squeeze his hand again, his eyes gentle as they meet briefly before V is looking at the road again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, Ker,” V says. “Didn’t say you weren’t. Just teasing, is all. I like spending time with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth of a different kind rushes down underneath Kerry’s skin, a heady feeling of mixed emotions that settle into something like love and home. He’s never taken things this slow before, even with their explosive tumble into this still-new relationship. He’s never told himself to pump the brakes and bask in the little things like the quirk of V’s brow, the softness of his heart, the obvious yearning in his voice as he wordlessly asks for something more than a fun night on a burning boat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry brings their joined hands up and kisses the back of V’s palm. The cybernetics there are warm, silver chrome underneath his lips — he doesn’t miss the tender smile at the corner of V’s lips as he lets his kiss linger there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A boat is involved,” Kerry finally manages to say. “But no fire. No explosions. And if you don’t want to take things too far — I’m okay with a nice night out, V. You set the rules now. Just ask me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then consider this me asking,” V says softly. “Just — would like a nice date. If that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Date</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Fuck, is that what this was? Are they doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>dates</span>
  </em>
  <span> now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure,” Kerry manages after an awkward moment. “Got everything lined up. You’ll like it, I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smile is quietly amused. He doesn’t pry for answers as Kerry directs him south of the city along the coastline and into secluded suburbs that only the wealthy can afford. He knows a boat is involved, so the surprise on his face is minimal when Kerry finally has him pull into a private marina, the hush of the ocean lapping against hulls the only sound besides the wind this far out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quiet,” V comments when they get out of the car. He cranes his head around, looking for any sign of life besides the two of them. No one is here this early, which is just as well. Makes it easier for Kerry to tug him close and wrap and arm around V’s waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thought you could use a bit of quiet,” Kerry hums. “This noggin of yours — you don’t get much of a break, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses V’s temple. V leans into him, his arm circling Kerry’s waist as well. It’s an awkward way to walk, but Kerry suddenly can’t bear moving away from V. His warmth, his gentle touch — it’s all he wants, now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny’s behaving himself, if that’s what you’re asking,” V says with a huff of laughter. His tone drops a bit, growing more serious. “We’re getting along. He knows when I need time to myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. ‘Bout time he learned to leave well enough alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He means well,” V chuckles. “But yeah. No Johnny. Just us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V turns in Kerry’s arm when they stop at the docks, his hands sliding up the leather of Kerry’s shoulders to rest there. They’re nearly the same height, with V being only a couple inches taller, making it easy to lean forward and press a quick, chaste kiss to V’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s get this early morning started, shall we?” Kerry says. “On the itinerary: absolutely nothing. You make the rules, V, but I got everything you need to relax.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then he gestures to the boat sitting alongside the dock beside them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Boat</span>
  </em>
  <span> is an understatement — it’s a yacht bigger than Kovachek’s was — but at this point Kerry is done measuring himself against the slimy weasel. V’s wide-eyed expression is all he cares about as he follows V up the boardwalk onto the deck, dropping down onto the shiny dark oak floorboards after the merc as he wanders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This your yacht this time?” V asks after a long moment. He turns to Kerry, and this time his smile is back. It’s nearly as bright as the deck lights illuminating him from behind, but only just. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry returns the smile easily — or rather, it hasn’t left his face since they got here. “Yep. Fully stocked, too. Didn’t want to skimp out for our first official date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures to the door at the back of the cabin. It slides open at the wave of his hand, revealing an interior not dissimilar from Kovchek’s yacht, albeit not quite as bright. Kerry had set mood lighting as well, even though he (rightly) suspected V wouldn’t want to do much fooling around this early in the morning. V peers inside, bobbing his head, before moving sternways again, his hands finding Kerry’s shoulders as they orbit together once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think I could bear being on another boat,” V says, a tease in his tone. “As long as we get to enjoy it this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, you wound me.” Kerry’s hands find V’s waist naturally, as if he’s been doing it for years instead of weeks. “Wouldn’t blow up my own shit. You know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Destroyed your own guitar,” V says archly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To make a point, yes,” Kerry says tightly, then shakes his head. “But enough of that. Want to set out, get your proper sea legs under you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. His expression is loose, faintly amused and curious all at once. Kerry can’t help but kiss him before dragging him back to the beach deck at the stern, pushing V down gently onto its leather cushions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me,” Kerry says. He waves at the front of the boat, drawing up the command to launch on the holo — with a gentle lurch and growl of its inboard engines, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someday</span>
  </em>
  <span> comes alive, pulling away from the edge of the dock and starting out towards the dark bay ahead of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V settles into the bench, relaxing into the gentle movement of the boat moving forward. He watches, amused, as Kerry manges not to trip over his own feet as he fetches a tall bottle of rosé and two glasses from the icebox inside the cabin. When he returns, he sinks into the seat beside V, holding out the bottle for V to inspect at the curious rise of his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alcohol free,” V says quietly. Appreciatively, and with a smile that’s more shy than before. He flicks his gaze up at Kerry, handing the bottle back for him to open. “You remembered.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry winks. “Remember all that you say. And what you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V dips his chin to hide his eyes. He hadn’t ever said he didn’t prefer alcohol, but Kerry could see it the few times they met up where it was available: the Red Dirt bar where Samurai performed for the first time in fifty years, and again at Dark Matter with Us Cracks. V had staunchly avoided it, and at first, Kerry had thought he was falling for some sort of clean-laced merc — as if there could ever be — but then understanding had dawned on him as subtle as a freight train slamming into him at full speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The relic. Johnny. Drinking lowered one’s inhibitions, and if V was struggling with control over his own body and actions, then —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry hadn’t offered after that. Hadn’t smoked, either, because not only did he not see V smoke, the other man seemed to avoid cigarettes like the plague as well — probably because of Johnny, too. Kerry’s long-dead best friend smoked like a chimney, and he would damn himself to an eternity in purgatory instead of tempting Johnny’s ghost by indulging in bad habits in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s startled, but appreciative, smile is worth the tiny discomfort. Kerry pops the cork to the wine and pours them each a glass, setting the bottle aside into a recess beside them before clinking his glass against V’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” V says after taking a sip. Kerry takes it slow as well, sipping instead of downing the whole thing in one go. He sets his glass aside, waiting until V has as well before scooting closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Planned on spending the night out on the water, if that’s alright,” Kerry says softly. “Just us and the stars for a few hours. Unless I need to get you back to the city by morning?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head. “Nah. Nothing pressing. I figured you’d want me for a while, and... and I wanted to spend more time with you. Outside blowing things up and breaking into dressing rooms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs, a little depreciative. He really had abused V’s kindness and skills before, hadn’t he? “Well, that’s why we’re here. Forget about the world for a little while... this time is just for us. To be Kerry and V, and only that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V leans his head on his palm, elbow propped on the back of the cushioned bench. His tanned skin picks up on the warm yellow tones of the onboard lighting well, making him look so much younger than he is. His eyes, too, so tired usually, ringed with bruises far more often than not — this time, clear and pinned solely on Kerry. Not over his shoulder, not off to the side like they sometimes are, watching someone that isn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just here. The two of them. The night is cold, and the ocean is a rush of constant quiet noise, but it’s so much better than the cacophony of sound in Night City.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V is much more relaxed, much more himself, without the shadow of it hanging over him. Kerry can’t help but lean forward and kiss that gentle smile on his lips, lingering just long enough to feel V’s breath against his face, a warm contrast to the nip of the wind through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V seems to feel the same. He doesn’t move much further, content to stay as close as he can. His hands are warm as they come up to take Kerry’s own, a rough and familiar slide of mismatched palms skating up his bare arms to cup his jaw between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait,” Kerry stutters after a moment. He disentangles himself, apologizing as V’s hands fall away to allow him up. “Here — let me —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rushes back to the cabin. He spends nearly as much time on this boat as he does in his villa — he doesn’t feel right if he doesn’t see the ocean at least a few times a week — so he finds what he needs quickly. He throws off his leather jacket and snatches up a few woven blankets and pillows, clambering back up the steps onto the deck in three strides before returning to V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes a nest in the curve of the plush bench for the both of them, settling between two pillows with the blankets to one side, smirking at V’s confused expression. “Like this,” he says as he settles back, holding his arms out to V in invitation. “I’ll hold you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s expression clears instantly. He stands, shedding his own jacket, setting it aside before removing the gun he had hidden in a holster underneath it. It’d turn Kerry on if he didn’t understand what V did for a living, but even then he can’t keep himself from squirming as V climbs into his lap, their bodies slotting together comfortably, V’s back to his front. Kerry wraps them up in the blankets, then directs V to lay his head back against his shoulder, relaxing just that little bit more when he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Kerry breathes when they finally settle. Underneath the blankets, he wraps his arms around V, burying his face against the slope of his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta admit, haven’t cuddled underneath the stars before,” V says quietly. He sighs, long and slow, his hands sliding down Kerry’s forearms until their fingers tangle together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Kerry asks. Anxiety overcomes him suddenly. “If you don’t want to — I can move back —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ker, you’re fine,” V laughs. “Seriously. Just... never done this, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I aim to impress.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kinda did that already, but I appreciate the tenacity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs and pinches V’s side. V squirms, but settles back quickly enough. The night really is cold — neither of them are eager to escape the warmth trapped between them now that they have it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t speak for a while. The boat continues on, cutting through the water quietly, leaving behind the lights of the marina. Soon, it’s just the two of them out on the glassy black water, the stars reflecting on its surface like glitter on a club floor. V isn’t inclined to move, even when the yacht stops and drops anchor when Kerry tells it to, so Kerry doesn’t move either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s happy just like this, just the cold and quiet and the press of V against him. He’d be happy anywhere with V, but having him away from the city, where they can forget about its bloody hold on them both for just a little while —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The early hour catches up to V quicker than Kerry expects, but he isn’t upset. He urges V up despite his sleepy protests, draping a blanket over him and leading him into the cabin. He waves the lights dimmer, then urges V down into the lower deck, taking his waist between his hands to steer him in the low light to the bed at the bow end of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take this off,” Kerry instructs gently when V’s knees hit the edge of the bed. He tugs at V’s shirt, and after a yawn, V complies, pulling it off his torso and tossing it to the side without a care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the first time he’s seen V undressed since their night on the</span>
  <em>
    <span> Seamurai </span>
  </em>
  <span>a week ago. Instead of tugging him closer to get a taste of him, though, Kerry does so to keep him from rocking to the side and falling over, his hands careful around his ribs as he directs V to sit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting his sneakers and jeans off, V crawls under the blankets and collapses with a sigh. Kerry smiles, small and affectionate, before shedding his own layers and following him down. This is the first bed they’ve shared, too — the first time Kerry has seen V sleep. When he reaches out and wraps his arms around V, V doesn’t resist or shake him away. When he shifts closer and presses kisses up his spine and around the back of his ear, he’s rewarded with a breathy laugh and V’s hands tangling with his own against his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As first dates go, it’s the slowest he’s ever gotten someone into bed, but then, V wasn’t a conventional relationship. Or maybe he was, and this was how it was supposed to go, exploding cars and yachts notwithstanding. First kisses on restaurant balconies, easy flirting and time spent with each other without expectation —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— yeah, maybe he went about this business all wrong before. Maybe this was what was missing. Not the Johnny-shaped hole in his chest or the roar of a crowd as the curtain lifts before a show (though the latter he’s not sure he could ever truly live without); not even the anxieties and insecurities finally being wiped away, renewing his life fifty years after he should have done so himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s just this. The simple pleasure of a body beside his own, of a life not entirely his but still trusted to be cared for with gentle hands and kind words. It could be anyone here beside him, could have been anyone had he taken the time to really work on himself, but... he’s glad it’s V. So, so glad it’s V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V sleeps through the morning without waking even when the sea starts to get a little rough with the early tide. Kerry lets him rest, managing to wiggle out from underneath the half-on half-off position they rolled into some time during the night. It’s been so long since he’s actually slept with someone that he takes a while basking in the warmth having another person beside him provides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That person being V makes his heart do funny things. Things that don’t feel right in his mouth right then, so he leaves them as they are. V sleeps, and Kerry climbs up the stairs quietly to start coffee and breakfast, flipping on the radio to something soft to complete the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just finished grinding coffee beans when V comes up the stairs, yawning and stretching. Kerry turns to greet him and nearly drops the filters for the brewer when he sees what V has wrapped around his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“M-morning,” he says as V comes up beside him. His broad shoulders shift beneath Kerry’s silky black and gold robe, shiny and unable to hold a candle to the soft look on V’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mornin’,” V says back. He raises a brow at Kerry, his little barely-there smile growing amused. “Somethin’ the matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, nothing wrong.” Kerry tugs V closer with a gentle grip on the open robe, pressing a kiss against V’s cheek. “In fact, this is the very opposite of wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes it very obvious with the trail of his eyes up and down V’s very nude form underneath the robe that he doesn’t mind. When he looks back up at V, his smirk is knowing, if a little hesitant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. V hasn’t done this before, or if he has, he’s incredibly out of practice. Kerry picks his jaw up off the floor and pulls V closer, coffee and breakfast forgotten as his palms slide across V’s warm waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V slots against him easily, his smile less shy. “So, anything planned for today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, nothing. The world is yours today — if you want to waltz around this boat in nothing but that robe, that’s perfectly fine with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V tilts his head, and Kerry takes advantage of the angle to kiss his jaw. V hums as he speaks, a pleasant low sound that Kerry has to pretend doesn’t do things to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How ‘bout just a quiet day,” V says. “A lazy one. You dragged my ass out here early enough, I should be allowed to sleep all day if I want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry gestures to the stairs leading back down to the bedroom. “Then by all means, sleep. I’ll make something to eat while you do, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s brow quirks, but his smile doesn’t go away. “Alright. Just for a while, though, I... want to spend the afternoon with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shoos him off with a shake of his head. “Really, I don’t care, V. If you want to sleep, then sleep. I know you need it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s expression crumples a bit, and Kerry knows he’s hit the nail on the head. V hasn’t rested fully in a while, he’s sure, and to have the normally restless merc here confirms his suspicions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V wants to escape. Even for just a few hours. He trudges down the stairs and Kerry lets him go, determined now more than ever to give V what he can before things inevitably get much, much worse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their time, however limited, must be spent apart sometimes. Kerry would prefer they weren’t separated, but V was a merc, and he operated mostly in the evening hours — whereas Kerry was up early after long, restless nights, going into meetings and recordings and god awful signings for faceless fans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even with the days spent apart, Kerry feels compelled to give V the codes to his villa just to show him he’s serious about this — this — </span>
  <em>
    <span>relationship</span>
  </em>
  <span> they have growing between them. He leaves them written down on a note on top of V’s jacket when the merc falls asleep on his couch (Kerry suspects he was running around town playing detective, but V was being strangely cagey about his goings-on lately, which was fine). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t expect much out of it. V already comes and goes when Kerry is here, so when he returns home after a long night of recording and finds V stretched out on his couch, his surprise makes him laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Finally decided to use what I gave you, huh?” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smile is lazy. His sneakers have been kicked off and his jacket is draped over the back of the loveseat adjacent to him. He looks like he’s been here for hours watching bad reality television — the image he makes is so domestic it nearly makes Kerry melt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That okay?” V asks. “I can leave my guns in the car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. He motions for V to scoot, sitting down where his head had been. He gently urges V back down to cushion him in his lap, settling his hand on V’s chest to feel the strong heartbeat thud underneath his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can do whatever you want to here,” he says gently. “What’s mine is yours, V.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans down and meets V halfway in a quick kiss. When they pull back, V is smiling, small and vulnerable just like that evening on the balcony when they kissed for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, he finds more and more of V’s presence in his villa. His many Quadras find homes parked at the end of the driveway, and Kerry has to make space in his closet for V’s limited wardrobe alongside the long guns that are too dangerous to leave out for the maids to handle. Enough medical supplies for a small hospital gets stashed in the downstairs bathroom, serving as a gentle reminder that V is still a merc and can and will find himself in dangerous situations frequently. He kisses V hard after this discovery, urging him to be careful, to come </span>
  <em>
    <span>back. </span>
  </em>
  <span>V’s smile is gentle with the promise that he will, setting Kerry at ease.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But V doesn’t sleep here. At least not in bed with Kerry. He’d be offended if he didn’t also understand the need for privacy that a man like V clung to still — that he was still a dangerous man and couldn’t place Kerry in harm’s way like that. So he settles for the time he gets: two or three days of V’s constant, calming presence interspersed with his short absences when jobs come up from impersonal fixers and begging clients asking for V by name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an easy routine. Kerry gets used to it, even looks forward to it. Some nights he doesn’t even expect V to be home, so the surprise always brightens his night when he finds V’s car parked at the end of the drive, his heart picking up at the anticipation of seeing the man that’s seized it so gently in his capable hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This night is no different to all the others when he finds the sleek black bulk of V’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cthulu</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the driveway. His heartbeat picks up and he smiles to himself as he pulls around the front of the villa to park where he usually does. But then he notices how crooked V’s car is sitting, how it’s halfway on the walk leading into the front door with the driver’s side wing still swung upwards like V didn’t have the time — or the energy — to wave it closed. Kerry stops the car and gets out, coming around V’s Quadra wholly expecting to find him sprawled on the cement in a pool of blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he spots a trail of blood droplets in the half-light of the evening leading from the open car to the front door. Kerry’s heart leaps into his throat, choking him, dread settling like ice in his limbs. He scrambles to punch in the code for the door and then he’s rushing inside, barely allowing himself to suck in a full breath before he’s shouting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V!” Kerry yells. His voice wavers, bouncing up the stairs and back down at himself. He stills, waiting for a reply, frozen in place until he hears a clatter in the bathroom downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” V calls back. “I got into a fucking — god fucking</span>
  <em>
    <span> damnit </span>
  </em>
  <span>—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry is moving before V can properly start cursing. He shoves open the bathroom doors, revealing a truly fucking terrifying mess: a bloody V sat on the toilet lid, his shirt and jacket discarded across the room and used first aid supplies circling his feet. His side is slashed open horizontally below his right pectoral, parallel to the faint top scar there, bleeding slow but steady down the tan expanse of his side and stomach. The top hem of his jeans is soaked with it, and when he breathes in, his face pinches and his breath hitches in barely-contained pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, what the fuck,” Kerry gasps. He tears his shirt over his head and soaks it under the already-running tap beside V without thinking. The hand towels around him have already been ruined, but in this moment, he couldn’t have given less of a fuck if he was paid to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not so bad,” V says, though his voice wavers a bit. “Just a graze. I didn’t think the guy was so close —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so bad my fucking ass, V,” Kerry hisses. He drops to his knees and starts wiping off the blood from V’s side, careful of the wound as he does. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus fucking Christ, what did you do?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “This is a fucking bullet wound, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You need to be careful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V wilts a bit as the blood wipes away. His breathing eases — it’s obvious he’d tried cleaning it on his own but the pain had been too much — and his hands don’t shake when he raises one of them to grip Kerry’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already took a coagulant,” V says. “And my medkit has liquid staples. Feel okay applying them for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. He shakes his head, but he still moves to tug V closer to the edge of the toilet seat, gentle even as anger burns hot under his skin. He takes V’s hands in his own when his side is sufficiently cleaned, keeping an eye on his dribbling wound as it slowly stops bleeding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to fucking call me if this happens again, V,” Kerry seethes after a long moment spent cleaning up V’s hands. V makes a face that Kerry scowls at. “Don’t. Even. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Start</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t care what happened, you need to call me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something like realization comes over V’s hurt expression as Kerry continues cleaning. He doesn’t fight him as Kerry moves on to getting the antiseptic and liquid stitches, careful even in his fury, his heartache. His soul presses against his throat with unimaginable love for V, but it doesn’t feel right saying anything as he gets his side clean and closed even though it hurts more to say nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Kerry says after a while. He sets aside the thick roll of bandages, only halfway used, and gets to his feet. “You’re lucky you were right. Any deeper and you’d need a trip to the ripper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Patched up many mercs, have you?” V says, his tone forced lightness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a young punk like you, once. You don’t own the market in feats of toxic masculinity.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls his eyes as he follows Kerry’s gentle hands to his feet. His wince of pain is hidden behind his smile, but only just. Kerry fixes him with a level look before he can twist away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it,” Kerry says. “Call, text, I don’t care. I’ll come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V dips his chin, hiding his eyes. “I’ll try. That’s all I can promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you involved any more than you are,” V says quickly, hard, like if he doesn’t speak now he won’t be able to later. He finally meets Kerry’s eyes again and doesn’t look away. “My life is dangerous. I deal with dangerous people. You have a nice life and I’m not going to be the reason it crumbles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry gapes for a moment before levelling a harder stare on V. Seriously? This is what this was about? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So stumbling into my house, shot and probably being chased by goons, is how you’re planning on keeping me safe?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s nose wrinkles as he frowns. “No, I just meant —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, I lived a life before all this,” Kerry says. He waves a hand around them, gesturing to the house and all beyond it as a whole. “I used to sleep on motel floors and my ex’s couch before my career took off in the twenties. I’m aware of what you do, V. The people you work with and what you get up to late at night. You can’t seriously expect me to just ignore all that and hope you stumble home safely every night, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His tone had risen as he spoke, but at the end he has to make a conscious effort not to yell. V didn’t deserve that, even with how infuriating he was being. Loyal and intelligent he may be, V could still be fucking stubborn when the situation called for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V, to his credit, looks apologetic, if not at least a little cowed. He doesn’t push away this time when Kerry gently wraps his hands around V’s waist, pulling him close to feel the warmth of him here, alive. He’s careful around his injured side, but V doesn’t seem to mind — he sinks into Kerry’s embrace, arms coming around Kerry’s shoulders, sighing a long breath of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just,” V starts, then stops. He chews on the inside of his cheek, looking around their feet at the bloody supplies and Kerry’s ruined shirt. He manages to look back up at Kerry after a long moment spent thinking — a moment Kerry doesn’t interrupt, instead allowing himself to come down from his own anger high. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just...” V starts again. “I need you to understand — I do... monumentally stupid shit on a daily basis, Ker. I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>persona non grata</span>
  </em>
  <span> among mercs and fixers, so I have to take work where I can find it. Which means I get into dangerous situations pretty often, and I don’t want to drag you into that alongside the Arasaka bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, I’m already there, baby. I hired you to blow up a van for me knowing what you did. This seriously can’t be what has you digging the trenches already,” Kerry sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V winces. “No. I just... don’t want you to think I expect this of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures around the room. At the blood in the sink, at Kerry’s blood-soaked shirt on the floor, at his side wrapped in gauze. Kerry could punch him if he could, but instead he leans forward and kisses him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expect you to call when you’re in trouble,” Kerry says softly. “To let me take care of you when I can. I know what I signed up for, V. Just... let me in, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. “Yeah. I will. I’ll do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Now sleep, seriously. I’m going to hound you with it until you go nuts, I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry pulls him away from the bloody bathroom and out into the main foyer, ushering him up the stairs. V follows along with a wry twist to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I haven’t spent the night here before. Is that alright?” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry doesn’t bother to hide the heat climbing his neck and coloring his cheeks. He doesn’t miss how V notices it with a wider grin, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave you the codes to everything, didn’t I?” Kerry says. “I think that’s as close an invitation as I can get without bending a knee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s V’s turn to blush this time at the image Kerry teases. “Right,” V stammers. “I — I’ll see you upstairs, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In a few. Let me clean up all this blood my input left in the bathroom — he’s a messy guy, so get in bed without me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V snorts and shakes his head. “I’m sure he feels real sorry about getting blood everywhere, but yeah. See you in a bit, Ker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pupunta ako</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There’s spare clothes in the closet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V waves as he disappears up the flight of stairs. Kerry leaves him to it, but keeps a careful ear out for him as he returns to the bathroom and wipes up everything. He’s careful to gather his and V’s discarded shirts, jacket, and gun afterwards, putting the first two in the wash and the gun in its holster that was similarly tossed aside. He sends the mopping bot out to clean the blood off the floor after moving V’s car further down the driveway, careful not to step in any droplets on his way back in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a quick shower after that to wash away the smell of copper from his skin and the bathroom itself. When he climbs the stairs up to the bedroom, the lights have been dimmed to near-darkness, only barely illuminating the still form of V curled up on his uninjured side on the right side of the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Bout time,” V says sleepily as Kerry tosses off his robe and climbs in behind him. Kerry scoffs, shaking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to get all nice and fresh for you,” Kerry teases quietly. He’s careful to wrap his arm around V’s waist and settle behind him, slotting against him with a sigh. They fit together so nicely, it’s a wonder it took him so long to get his head out of his ass to get here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s laugh is barely a stutter of breath, but it’s there all the same. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>smell nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm, anything for you, V.” Kerry kisses his nape. “Just ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes pass in a comfortable quiet where it finally sinks in that V is here in his bed. For some reason, it makes this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing </span>
  </em>
  <span>between them feel more real, more alive, than having V in his arms on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someday </span>
  </em>
  <span>a few weeks ago. It sets him alight, warm and tingling all over like a teenager finally discovering their crush likes them back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls over in his arms a bit, pressing back against him in a relaxed line down Kerry’s front. “Can I ask you something?” V murmurs, nearly shy, dragging Kerry out of his wandering thoughts quicker than a gunshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry kisses his shoulder, then his nape again. “Told you you could, didn’t I?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls over completely. Kerry shifts back, leaning up a bit on his propped hand to look down at him with a raised brow. The temptation to kiss him is hard to fight down, but he does as V chews his lip, looking... afraid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this anything to do with how you got hurt?” Kerry asks cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V is quick to shake his head, his eyes hard but truthful. “No, no. That was just a fucking stupid accident. Got into it with a couple scavs — Johnny started it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry snorts. “Right. Of course he did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smile is bright in the dark. The fear on his face is gone now, replaced with genuine happiness. Kerry could get lost in that look forever if he could, but he settles for memorizing it instead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, </span>
  </em>
  <span>did he have it bad...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just... had an invitation to dinner,” V says. “For a friend of mine. I helped him find his nephew, and his sister wants to cook for me as a thank you. I asked if I could bring someone with me, and he said yeah, so...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re asking me to a dinner date,” Kerry says, grinning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yes?” V says. “If... that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would love to have dinner with you and two mysterious strangers whom you helped find a kidnapped child for,” Kerry says. And, more seriously, “or, just at all, V. You don’t need a reason to take me out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but these people are less likely to recognize you, and I know you don’t like being picked out of a crowd...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V, I will battle off a thousand screaming fans to have a nice dinner with you anywhere. I hope you know that,” Kerry says softly. V, to his credit, nods earnestly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll come?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Duh, you fucking idiot. Where and when? Gimme the deets, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tomorrow, at their place,” V says. He rolls back onto his left side, tugging Kerry’s arm back around his hips. He threads their fingers together and curls their hands against his chest, breathing out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, Ker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmhmm,” Kerry hums. “Anything, V. I really mean it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. Kerry can feel how quick his heartbeat is where it beats against his wrist — he can feel how V presses back against him just that little bit more seeking comfort and offering silent gratitude. Kerry kisses the knob of his spine at the base of his neck, a silent </span>
  <em>
    <span>your welcome</span>
  </em>
  <span> to V’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the quiet of the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the morning, they wake together. (Another first that sets Kerry’s heart going a million miles a second — on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someday</span>
  </em>
  <span>, V had slept until noon, leaving Kerry to sit beside him and compose in loving silence.) Kerry gets him into the shower, careful of his side, and helps him wash his hair and soothe his aches and pains. If they fooled around a little, it didn’t matter much — they didn’t have anywhere to be until evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry cancels all meetings for the day, much to Kovachek’s chagrin and V’s quiet contentment. Because of V’s injury, Kerry doesn’t push for much besides a nice afternoon spent bullying V into watching bad reality television — which V has also not ever done, which is a travesty. He ends up explaining the entire convoluted plot line to Little Baby Billionaire as they breeze through the first season, with V’s little smile never leaving his face the entire time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Around four, V finally gets up from the couch and stretches as much as he can before heading upstairs to get dressed. Kerry follows him, ready to help if needed, but V bats his hands away before he can.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got shot, not rendered an invalid,” V says, his lip curled, though he doesn’t sound mad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bled all over my house,” Kerry says flatly. “The least I could do is help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got it.” V pulls his shirt over his head, wincing only a little as if to prove his point. Kerry raises an unimpressed brow, to which he’s met with one just as level. “Don’t, Kerry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry raises his hands. “Fine. But if you start bleeding, I’m not cleaning it up again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise not to get it on the carpet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all I ask. Besides not getting shot at all, but, y’know. Baby steps.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head, unable to fight back the smile twitching at his lips. “I’ll work on that, too. I promise.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry rolls his eyes as he gets dressed as well. V told him to dress comfortably, very pointedly emphasizing to not wear his baggy jeans and hoodie to cover himself from head to toe, so Kerry does as he’d asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeans, tank, leather vest — if V didn’t want him to worry, then he wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he was recognized, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V offers to drive, which Kerry obliges because he can see V really wants to do this for him. They take the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Javelina</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but instead of going out into the city towards someone’s apartment or penthouse Kerry expected them to go to, V drives them out to the outskirts of town where parts of northern Night City are still in development. Nestled in between construction sites and the vast California desert is a tiny trailer park, separated from the concrete of the city by a winding dirt road which V takes them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry tries not to let the surprise show on his face, but it must anyway because V is snickering before he can school his expression. “What happened to poor young Kerry eating cardboard out from under bums, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry rolls his eyes, waving V’s teasing away. “Just unexpected, is all. When you said I wouldn’t be recognized, I didn’t think this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>might</span>
  </em>
  <span> not be,” V emphasizes. “At least by Joss’ kids. Joss and River, though... they may know who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither of the names ring a bell, but then again, V met all kinds of people in his line of work. Kerry shrugs, unconcerned. “V, I don’t care. This means a lot to you, so... I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s little grin is infectious. “Thanks, Ker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry’s not sure how V can’t hear how hard his heart is beating, but he takes it as the blessing that it is and nods. “Of course. Now tell me — what the hell kind of name is River?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V snorts and shakes his head. “The same kinda name V is: a unique one. Now stop judging. Almost there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost there” is an understatement. They turn into the trailer park, going slow enough for a gaggle of children to run in front of them kicking a ball between them, before taking another turn further into the park. On either side is a shabby line of single-wide trailers, but at the end, one side angles up a hill sharply where a leaky water tower sits, and on the right, an area in between trailers opens up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plastic chairs and picnic tables line the edges of the clearing, with a double-wide trailer sitting at the back fence line of the clearing. A tall, bulky man stands at a barbecue nearer to the double-wide, turned towards them as V pulls into the clearing enough to park. Two small children play between the picnic tables, darting around and chasing each other with foam guns that shoot rubber darts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man turns at the sound of V’s car crunching up the drive and waves when they get out. V waves back, that little smile still tugging at his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V!” the man calls. “You came just in time — I need you to stir this for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, River,” V says as he and Kerry walk up. Kerry is careful to keep his hands to himself, ever-aware of any eyes watching him. Moreso now that he has V. He didn’t want to reveal too much if V hasn’t done so first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>River smiles as they approach, his mismatched eyes darting between them. A knowing look crosses his face, but V doesn’t comment on it, so Kerry doesn’t either, even though he’s pretty sure River has already cottoned on not two seconds into meeting him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This must be who you wanted to bring,” River says instead of what he obviously wants to say. V nods, earnest, his grey eyes sliding to Kerry with an easy grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think you know who he is, but... this is Kerry. We met a while ago when I broke into his house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River snorts a laugh — Kerry laughs as well as he holds out his hand to shake River’s. His grip is strong and succinct, very typical for a cop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I imagine it was a bit of a rocky meeting,” River says. “Though you guys appear to be good friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Putting it lightly, but yeah,” Kerry agrees. That knowing look is back on River’s face. Kerry smirks at it, tilting his head at V as if to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, you’re right, now let’s move past it before you embarrass me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. River gracefully looks away, pinning his more easy smile on V.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joss’ll be glad to have you guys. She really wanted to show her thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really nothing,” V says. He takes the spoon River gives him, taking over stirring a pot of something that smells much better than it looks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take a compliment, man,” River laughs. “I’ll cut the celery and garlic — you guys ever have jambalaya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry quirks a brow at V, who shakes his head. “No, not me at least. Kerry gets around more than I do, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have, but not from a secret recipe, which I assume this is,” Kerry says lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>River nods his head sagely. “Absolutely. I’m trusting you guys not to tell — the kids won’t get the recipe until they’re older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head at the little boy and girl chasing each other nearby, too engrossed in their game for now to notice them. Kerry stuffs his hands in his pockets and watches them as River and V catch up — it’s apparent neither of them have seen each other in a few days since V found River’s nephew, Randy. Kerry guesses this is what V has been up to lately, but with how little detail V seems to give, he figures things must have been a little more intense than V could have predicted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, I think you’ve done enough stirring,” River says after a lull in the conversation. He moves the cutting board he was using to the side of the pot V has been babysitting and scrapes cut celery and garlic into the mixture. He takes the spoon from V and gestures to the double-wide behind him. “Mind getting some rice for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hesitates beside Kerry for a brief split-second before he nods. “You got it. Just in the kitchen, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Joss’ on the phone, so she should be out in a few minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods again and jogs up the short steps up the porch. He disappears inside, leaving Kerry alone with a near-stranger with nothing more than a wave in parting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A near-stranger who, despite their silent glaring contest earlier, smiles a conspiratorial smile and waggles his eyebrows far more suggestively than Kerry is comfortable with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, V told me he was with someone, but... a rockstar?” River cat-calls. “Didn’t expect him to go for such big fish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry finds himself bristling before he can stop himself. This is V’s friend — he had nothing to defend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More like we burned down my manager’s property and things just escalated from there,” Kerry says. He tries to keep his tone light, and he must succeed, because River snorts a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. He said something similar. But he seems pretty happy, so... thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry nods. River’s tone settles him some— he seems genuine, like he cares for V far more than just what V has done for him. That’s enough for him to at least give River a chance before he threw V over his shoulder and ran for the hills at the first sign of trouble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For sure,” Kerry says. “I wasn’t really expecting anything, but he’s a good kid. Got a lot going on, got a lot in his head that’s fucked up, but I’m here for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River seems to understand Kerry’s underlying meaning. Whether he knows about Johnny or not doesn’t seem to matter — V seems like a good friend to him, and his well-being is just as much a concern for him as it is for Kerry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I worry about him, so,” River shrugs, “keep an eye on him for me, alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure. If Night City doesn’t explode before I get to telling you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River snorts. “Got that right. Pretty sure V’s half the reason it </span>
  <em>
    <span>hasn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>blown up yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about me and blowing shit up?” V says as he trots back over, a box of rice in hand. He’s a bit more flustered than he had been just before, but he disguises it well behind his usual half-frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry raises a questioning brow at him, moving to his side but not reaching out to touch him. V shakes his head, mouthing </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t worry about it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but still his shoulders are a tense line that Kerry knows isn’t because of his injury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, y’know, just picking your input’s brain for details you won’t tell me,” River says easily. V hands over the rice with a level glare that River just smiles at. “What? You weren’t going to tell me until I begged you for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wasn’t really the time when we were trying not to get disintegrated by landmines on a psychopath’s farm with boys hooked up to cattle machines,” V says flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, but after that? C’mon, man. You know I’m here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks like he’s about to argue back before he visibly thinks better of it. Realization comes over him for the second time, his expression smoothing out into something a little less angry as he glances between River and Kerry. River smiles — a much more natural looking expression on his face — and Kerry winks, holding his hand out for V to take. V does, briefly squeezing it before they both drop them, a silent conversation that neither of them have to explain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V says. “Yeah, I... thanks. For being there for me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>River pokes him in the chest with the clean end of the spoon. “You got it. Now put in the rice — this stuff has to simmer for a while before it’ll be done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V does as he’s bid, tossing the rice box into a nearby garbage can when he’s finished. Kerry is about to suggest they crack open a couple beers for the evening (no barbecue was set without them, in his opinion), but it’s then the two children seem to finally notice their guests as they barrell down V and River in a clamber of little limbs and plastic toy guns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V! You’re back!” the little girl exclaims. She’s tugging on his shirt hem, which V reluctantly reciprocates with a pat to the top of her head. He clearly doesn’t interact with children much, if at all — River and Kerry share a grin between them as V takes a short step back to put some space between himself and the kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m back,” V says. “Your uncle invited me over for dinner, so I’ll be here for a couple hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We thought we wouldn’t see you again,” the little boy says. He frowns, a cute little pout that even Kerry feels bad about. “You were gone </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, he just had some stuff to do,” River says. “It’s all good now, kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’re you?” the boy says. His attention is suddenly on Kerry, his dark eyes wide with curiosity. His sister is similarly interested, coming around River’s legs to get a good look at Kerry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry tries to smile as innocently as he can — he doesn’t know what to say, but then again, the finer details didn’t really matter to eight-year-olds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m V’s — er, friend,” Kerry settles on. Boyfriend sounded a little shallow, and he’s confident these kids don’t know what “input” means yet. V nods anyway, his expression carefully neutral. “He invited me along for dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you hurt your neck?” the girl asks, her little hand rubbing at her own throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Monique,” River warns. Monique shrinks into herself a bit, but Kerry waves River off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s alright,” Kerry says. “I did, a while ago, but I’m alright now. Thanks for asking.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Monique grins brightly up at River. “See, he’s alright!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy you asked, then,” River laughs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, V, d’you wanna play a game with us?” the boy asks. He’s tugging on V’s shirt, leaning against his legs as he begs with those big eyes again. “River said you would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V turns a dirty look on River. “He did, did he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Will you? You didn’t get to play last time...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V turns his long-suffering smile on Kerry. Kerry nods, crossing his arms, his own grin turning toothy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, V,” he goads. “I wanna see you play cops and robbers with the kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m usually running </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the cops.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t arrest you,” the boy says, aloof. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really got me against a wall, here, Dorian, but alright,” V says. His tone is higher than normal, like anyone would keep it when talking to children, but his smile is genuine. It melts Kerry a little bit more every time he sees it. “Show me what we’re playing — I don’t know much about this kinda stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” both kids cheer. They scurry off to a table off to the side with scattered toys sitting on top of it. River turns an appreciative look on V, his hand coming up to clap him on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, man,” he says. “Just let ‘em win — this is their favourite game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” V says. He accepts the cheap VR headset and toy gun Dorian brings him, sliding it on as the kid directs. “Alright, what’re we up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry sneaks a kiss against V’s cheek when both children have their headsets on, smiling when V leans into him. “I’ll have a smoke over here, where I’m out of the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. Kerry ambles off to the fence as Monique and Dorian launch into a fairly elaborate story about retired detectives and gang bosses that they must defeat to win. V and River follow along, amused and clearly holding back to allow the children to win at their own pace. They disappear around the corner, the children’s laughter following after them as Kerry stands back and breathes in the evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not long after he finishes his first cigarette, a woman emerges from the double-wide, a cell phone pressed against her ear as she speaks quietly. She closes the screen door behind her and hangs up the phone shortly afterwards, trotting down the porch steps and coming around the side of the trailer towards the sound of Monique and Dorian shouting. She doesn’t seem to notice Kerry, so he stays where he is. He doesn’t want to scare her if she does end up recognizing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shortly after she rounds the corner, he hears the kids groan and start to protest. She must have been Joss, then — River’s sister and the mother to Monique and Dorian. Kerry pushes off the fence and ambles to the table closest to the barbecue as the kids lead the adults back into the clearing, shouting and chasing each other as they go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And this is Kerry,” V says, gesturing to him as they approach. Joss nods, smiling, and holds out her hand politely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to meet you,” she says. Kerry shakes her hand, returning her soft grip. “I didn’t see you earlier — I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been so rude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to scare you, or...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be recognized?” Her smile is kind as he freezes. “Don’t worry. I won’t make a big deal out of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry feels himself deflate with relief. “Thanks. I’m human first, Kerry Eurodyne second. I’ll sign something for you later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After dinner, preferably,” V pipes in. “Smells good, River.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waaay ahead of you, man,” River says. He’s already moving the pot of jambalaya to the table where Monique and Dorian are waiting (if attacking each other with plastic spoons could be considered “waiting”). “Alright, guys — sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry herds V to one side of the table with a glance, careful to keep his hands to himself. V’s smile is small as he sinks into his seat, careful of his side. They both accept bowls of savory-smelling jambalaya, though when Kerry takes his, River gives him an apologetic smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s about to ask why — if he’s about to be poisoned he wants to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span> — but as soon as they’re all served, Joss reaches across the narrow table and covers V’s hand in her own, lingering there even when V jumps at the touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry has to fight tooth and nail to keep his mouth shut as her hand continues up V’s hand to cradle his wrist. He understands River’s apologetic look now, understands how flustered V had been when he’d left the house after getting rice earlier. Joss’ thumb rubs the knob of V’s wrist and Kerry very suddenly can’t breathe through the heat climbing up his throat and pressing against his teeth — but he can’t. For his sake and for V’s, he can’t risk her knowing more than V wants her to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, she doesn’t notice Kerry bristling beside V, and River is kind enough not to comment as he urges the kids to eat. V pointedly stuffs his face with food before Joss fixes him with a starry-eyed look that has become very familiar to Kerry from his many run-ins with fans, though to have it trained on V feels like nails are being driven underneath his skin with a rusty hammer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to thank you for finding Randy for us,” she says earnestly. She’s a friend, Kerry has to remind himself. She’s a friend of V’s and he will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>snap and rip her head off even as her hand climbs higher up V’s forearm, her touch lingering. “River losing his job isn’t ideal, but without you digging around, I don’t think he could’ve done it alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V very carefully switches hands he was eating with, dislodging her fingers from him without shaking her off. “You’re welcome. River asked, and if I were in your guys’ shoes, I woulda wanted others to help, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That what you been up to this past week?” Kerry asks. It’s hard to keep the tension out of his voice, but he manages to just enough. V turns a relieved smile on him — Kerry returns it, glad to have Joss’ attention off of V at least for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V says. “River and I may have... done some not-so-legal things and gotten him fired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>River scoffs, waving V’s concern away. “I wanted to quit anyway. It’s not very fulfilling being a cop in Night City.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s adjusting to family life really well,” Joss says. Kerry watches as her hand climbs up V’s wrist again, though this time, V doesn’t switch hands to knock her away. “I think it suits him, being here with the kids.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so too,” V agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I’d be without my kids. Without even one of them here with me.” Joss’ eyes turn on V again — V tenses, palpable even with the foot of space between him and Kerry on the bench they’re sharing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, uh,” V stammers. “I’m glad I could help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have a family, V? Or just... relations?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This can’t be happening. V’s a grown man, he’d say or do something if this was getting out of hand, wouldn’t he? Should Kerry assume he wouldn’t and just announce that V was taken? Would V want that? Would it even matter?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V takes his hands away, folding his arms in front of him to keep them out of Joss’s reach. “Heywood is my family,” he says honestly. “The whole street helped each other without asking for anything back. Never knew my folks, but I was never alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry wants nothing more than to lean over and kiss V senseless — because holy shit how fucking sweet and heartbreaking is that — but he stops himself before the urge overtakes him. Instead, he bumps V’s elbow with his own, winking when V turns his attention to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?” Joss prompts after a beat. “You speak about Heywood in past tense, like you have no one else...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No family,” V says again. “And — not really interested in having kids.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry has to bite his tongue as Joss adopts a coy look. “I don’t know, I think you’d be a good dad. Are you sure you wouldn’t want kids?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He answered your question, Joss,” River laughs, if a bit nervously. He’s managed to keep himself out of the conversation, letting it flow as (un)naturally as it can while he and Kerry sat in tense half-silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I just mean — you seem great with Monique and Dorian. They really like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the sound of their names, both kids perk up. “Yeah!” Monique says. “You help us beat up the bad guys!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really don’t think I’m dad material,” V says, pushing his food away. “Thanks for dinner, River, I really appreciate it, but —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Joss is grabbing V’s wrist again and pulling him halfway across the table to her before either Kerry or River can react. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you seeing anyone?” she asks, her tone pitched high. “Involved with anyone? I’d really like to know, because I —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking happening. Kerry shoves away from the table and grabs V by the arm, dragging him up as well, dislodging Joss’ grip from his wrist in the same fluid motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going,” he growls. He manages a tight smile for River and the kids, but can’t keep it up for long. “Thanks for dinner, we really appreciate it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it,” River says. His smile is weak as he fixes it on V and Kerry. “I’ll text you when you can come see Randy, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure,” V says quickly. “I, uh, look forward to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“W-wait,” Joss stammers. She stands as well, looking much more apologetic. “I didn’t mean — well. I didn’t mean to come on so strongly. If you wanted to go out sometime maybe, or go see a movie, or...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry feels his face scrunch up, heat once again flooding up his face and making him grind his teeth. He looks at V for a split second to determine his acquiescence for what he’s about to do, and at V’s nod, he takes V’s face between his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joss gasps when he pulls V down into a wet kiss that he doesn’t bother to cut short when V immediately reciprocates. His mouth is soft against Kerry’s own, and there’s a weird sense of accomplishment that comes with kissing him in front of someone that spent the last ten minutes shamelessly flirting with the man he’s been in love with for weeks now. When they separate, V’s smile is big and dopey — a far cry from the awkward grin he’s kept on his face all evening through this torturous dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s taken,” Kerry manages after a few breathless seconds. He turns his glare on Joss, only withering a bit when she looks away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend. I was just...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not following any signals?” Kerry bites out. Joss winces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you guys later,” V says gently. He doesn’t call her out, doesn’t ream her up and down like Kerry so desperately wants to. “Text me when Randy comes home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing,” River says quietly. He grabs Kerry’s arm when he turns to leave, releasing him immediately when Kerry turns a raised brow on him. “I’m sorry too, Kerry. I should’ve said something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joss looks at River with a confused tilt to her mouth. “You knew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V told me,” River sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just that I was with someone,” V laughs nervously while Kerry says, “or he just has fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>eyeballs</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joss rubs her face with her hands. “Wow, I’m so stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No harm, no foul,” V says. He tugs at Kerry’s arm, pulling him towards the car. “See you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Joss and River wave while the kids — now sufficiently confused — call their goodbyes after them. Kerry takes V’s keycard for the car, which V doesn’t fight him on, wordlessly following his lead by climbing into the passenger side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fucking shit,” Kerry hisses when the doors close around them, cutting them off from the world. “V, what the absolute fuck —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, but wow.” V rubs his face with both hands, and it’s then Kerry sees he’s shaking with laughter. “She barely said much at all to me a few days ago, but then she’s suddenly climbing my tree?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think you almost came alone,” Kerry says with a growl. He starts the car and backs out of the clearing, thankful the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Javelina </span>
  </em>
  <span>has holographic windows. At least he doesn’t have to wave as they disappear around the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s not so bad,” V sighs. “And River was in a tough position. But I’m sorry, anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry arches a brow at him. “Dude, don’t apologize to me. She was about to kiss you if I didn’t get to you first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ker...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Consent,</span>
  </em>
  <span> V, is important,” Kerry presses. “Even with nonverbal cues. A no is a no.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V snorts. “Like kissing me to get your point across was anything more than jealousy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry makes an </span>
  <em>
    <span>ehh </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound. “You’re not wrong. You saved her kid, V. But like hell am I gonna sit there and let her feel up my man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your man, huh?” V says, his tone low and warm. Kerry shifts in his seat as his skin tingles at the sound, his attention on the road wavering for only a moment before V laughs. “Ker, pay attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kinda hard to when you say things like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s laugh is sudden and loud. “Alright — get home and I might keep it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, V plays dirty. “Fine,” Kerry laughs. “But let me buy dinner at least? A nice one. With just the two of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only if you’re buying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head with a smile. He turns towards North Oak, the heat in his gut melting away the cold jealous rage gripping his heart. “Like I wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V is quiet for a moment, the hum of the engine the only noise between them as Kerry takes them past the gate into North Oak proper. It’s only when he’s pulling into his own driveway that V sits up a bit straighter, looking over at Kerry with an apologetic frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M sorry this evening went to shit,” he says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry blinks. “V, I fucked it up. Not you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I should of told Joss to back off. It wasn’t fair to her or to you for doing that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry sighs. “Listen — you froze up. I watched you that entire time. You couldn’t have been more clear on how disinterested you really were.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V grimaces. “I guess I feel bad for Joss, then. She’s been through a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not... let’s not talk about that.” Kerry parks the car and takes out the key, sitting back into his seat so he can properly look at V. “You have enough on your mind already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s expression shutters a bit. Kerry aches for it, aches for the pain he can’t take from V and aches for things he can’t control. It was a nice dinner, weird situation be damned, but V had enough to think about as it was. He should spend his downtime happy and relaxed — not settling petty fights because of Kerry’s own insecurity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry gets out and urges V up as well, silently apologizing with a gentler kiss to the corner of his mouth. V returns it, his smile small and without judgement — already things have been forgiven. They go inside together as Kerry orders dinner from his phone, his hand sliding around V’s hip to carefully cradle his waist like he’s been craving to do since before they left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner is ordered, he helps V out of his clothes and redresses the already-closing wound in his side with new stitches. It really is just a graze, a slice through the upper layers of skin and nothing more, but it had bled enough that Kerry still worries when V stretches too far across the couch that he ends up sitting behind V just to get him to curl up and cuddle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They end up falling asleep like that. Back to front again in a position that is quickly becoming their normal sleeping position. Kerry finds that it’s easier to sleep with V pressed against him like this, even though his arm usually feels like static in the morning and V is hotter than a midsummer California day. He wouldn’t change it for anything, even though it’s still new and strange. He wouldn’t change anything at all, as if jealousy and heartache could hold a candle to the bright, fiery warmth he felt in his core for this lone merc beside him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>V has six scars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fourth night they spend together in the same bed, Kerry can’t sleep. It isn’t V’s fault, really, and not necessarily Kerry’s fault either. He just can’t, and so he lays there for a while as V breathes, quiet and slow, for once at rest instead of in constant, frantic motion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then he starts counting. Initially, he doesn’t mean to, but V’s body is warm and there’s little else to do when his (partner? boyfriend? lover? What was V? What were they together that they weren’t apart?) </span>
  <em>
    <span>lover</span>
  </em>
  <span> has finally found peace in sleep. Kerry has been counting down the days since they met, anyway, so what was one more number to accompany the many others that concerned this one singular man? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands track down V’s body naturally, anyway. They found places to rest that seemed to fit his palms so nicely — in the dip of V’s waist, the curve of his ribcage, the gentle swell of his hip that smoothed down into strong thighs. V wasn’t quite as stocky as Kerry, but he was still built to fight and run and perform feats well beyond what any normal person could, and to feel that power at rest underneath his hands was… humbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s in this quiet exploration that his fingers skip over marred skin. Small marks at first, little bumps and scrapes that V must acquire near-daily during the gigs that sustain him. Kerry isn’t looking right now, isn’t searching for the aches that must remind V to duck, to hide, to never again trust on the basis of no harm, no foul. He isn’t searching until he finds the first of many scars scattered across V’s body, so startled to find it and yet not surprised at all that this most dangerous man has a history of sometimes losing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first he finds is a slash across V’s back below the shoulder blades, clean like someone had just missed cutting him in half with a sword. Kerry can’t see it with his eyes in the low light of the room, but he can with the gentle glide of his fingertips across V’s skin — can feel it underneath the colors and swirls of the flowers decorating V’s neck and shoulder. They cascade down his back in a tumble of blue and turquoise, disguising the nasty scar as easily as any camouflage on a diamondback in the desert.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At its point, another scar bisects it, this one puckered and more visible to Kerry’s eye as they adjust to the dark. A gunshot, and one that hurts still, too, because V twitches when Kerry trails his touch over it. So Kerry moves past it, kissing a sweet apology on V’s nape, sweeping his fingers around it instead to soothe any lingering pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The third is on V’s right side. On his hip, where endless tan skin stretches around to his taunt stomach, a well-hidden surgical scar sits above his iliac. It’s small, this little scar, barely as long as Kerry’s thumb folded at the knuckle. It doesn’t hurt V, though, not like the gunshot still aching at the center of his back. Instead, it’s soft, soothed over with time and gentle care. When Kerry asks about it in the morning, V will say it’s the scar for his testosterone pump, and Kerry begins ending their evenings and beginning their mornings with kissing that little scar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(V laughs when he does. Kerry won’t pretend he does it to not hear him laugh, because that would be a lie. V’s laugh is so young and boyish Kerry aches to hear it even in his dreams.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fourth and fifth are the twin top scars underneath V’s pectorals, and these, out of all of them, are the faintest. They’re smooth, barely-there incisions, made long ago by Vik’s careful hands. Vik is the only ripper V trusts, and in these scars Kerry sees why — it’s as if they were never there in the first place. These, Kerry kisses too, even with V in a dead sleep. An apology, a promise, a prayer all in one. An expression of V’s truest self, and Kerry loves him more and more for it with every breath he takes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For hours, he doesn’t find the sixth scar, even as his hands and lips and breath wander. V is a careful merc, and his body bears nothing of the horrors that brought him here. Though, Kerry isn’t really looking. He’s happy enough to let his hands skate down expanding ribs and strong thighs, taking in the man that was kind enough to allow him this easy pleasure of knowing a precious body so unguarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He memorizes V’s tattoos instead of searching. Their whorls and shifts of color, the ink slightly metallic and catching what little light that filters up from the floor below them. The lines are nearly perfect in their curves around petals and stems and thorny, prickly leaves, but when the sky begins to lighten and Kerry looks closer, there is a weight to each line that is so very human. Nearly perfect, but not enough to be machine-made. V’s skin was scarred by horrible hands, but also by kind ones. Ones that left their legacy behind that V bore proudly, covering old hurts in an effort to find something beautiful in his often hard, ugly life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s body is an imperfect sculpture of living beauty that Kerry spends all night learning by touch alone. When he shifts away, Kerry obeys, taking V’s unconcious cues to heart on where to touch and where to leave alone. He’s careful around V’s nape, careful around his ruined chip port and the lingering wounds there that V cleans and cares for himself. His hands only wander where V lets them, a promise to appreciate but to never indulge if not asked to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s only when V rolls over to be face to face with Kerry that he finally discovers the sixth scar. It’s small, like the one on his hip, but so nearly imperceptible Kerry has missed it so far — a little nick above his lip that curls up sharply towards his nose. A split lip maybe, or a punch from some unlucky bastard during a barfight. When Kerry asks what idiot gave him the little scar there above his lip, V laughs and says, “You, Kerry. When you hit me with your fucking gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels so suddenly guilty for it that he doesn’t let V escape his arms until Kerry has kissed it for every day he hadn’t noticed it. It was so tiny, so well-hidden underneath V’s stubble that he’d missed it even when it was healing over. An idiot, he tells himself. What a fucking idiot I’d been not to notice even the smallest of fucking things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, there are other scars, too. Small ones healed over from V’s boyhood and scrapes and punctures from time spent becoming the most notorious merc in Night City. These are faded with time, though, soft to the touch and barely perceptable when Kerry’s calloused fingertips find them in the night. A constellation of points on V’s body nearly invisible if one didn’t look, and Kerry has a feeling he’s the first one to ever bother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s such a small thing. So insignificant compared to what </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>matter: V’s health and well-being. He was declining, there was no doubt about it. He woke coughing up blood more often than he wanted to admit, Kerry knew, and his bouts of dizziness were getting more frequent. V was a coordinated man, but there were times Kerry noticed him stumbling, noticed him walking with a hand along the wall or his eyes squeezed shut against the sun. He was dying. This shouldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>matter</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it did to Kerry. He was still getting to know V, still discovering what made him laugh so easily and smile so freely. Still learning that while he had no blood family, he had his ripper and his friends and so many people that would miss him if he died or disappeared. He thought he was alone but he wasn’t, and Kerry was finding out that he was so much more than Night City’s most dangerous lone merc to have ever walked her streets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the people that loved him. He was the cybernetics under his skin that allowed him to work; the tattoos of flowers curling over his shoulder and down his neck in a burst of color on a man considered so terrifying. He was the scars on his skin both new and faded — from scraped knees as a boy to the scars on his chest bearing the obvious pain and heartache of discovering who he was. He was bar fights and gunshots and heists and dead friends and through it all he was here, alive, hurting and dying but still here. Still here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of it was so much more precious knowing V didn’t have to allow Kerry the gift of discovering him. He could just as easily leave Kerry alone in bed, or not come stay with him at all. He had his own apartment in the city — he had a place that was his own. Being here when he didn’t have to, didn’t need to, was... everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the sun rises on that fourth night they spend together, Kerry moves his hands away from where they’d wandered down V’s hips to rest against his own chest instead. V might sleep a while or he may wake up coughing — either way, he should let V rest until the very last moment. He doesn’t find sleep himself even after spending all night awake, but that’s alright. If it meant missing out on being here, even as V sleeps, he’d rather not sleep a single night for the rest of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, the worst doesn’t come. V doesn’t wake hacking up globs of blood, instead snoozing both through his alarm and Kerry’s. Kerry kisses his shoulder and his cheek before getting up to make coffee, and when he returns, V is right where he left him, rolled on his left side with his face mashed into a pillow. There’s work to be done, songs to write and solos to record but... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry gets back into bed after finishing his cup of coffee. There’s nowhere he’d rather be than right here where V needed him most. At least here he could battle off V’s pain and fear a little longer — at least here V could drop away from the world and be a man instead of a machine. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the countdown inevitably continues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weeks pass. V was comfortable when not in motion — a lazy cat content to sleep for hours and indulge in whatever expensive delicacy Kerry could find. He was easy to please in a way that spoke more about his quickly worsening condition (hewasgonnadiehewasgonnadiehewasgonnadiehewasgonnadie) than it did of any preferences he may have; Kerry was all too happy to please him in whatever way he could to silence the mantra in his head that told him this will end far too soon than he wanted it to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But V was smart even as he was losing control of himself. He woke coughing sometimes, hacking up blood and tissue into his palm that he quickly washed away. Kerry pretended not to notice, pretended to give V that little bit of privacy he was unable to give in any other aspect of their growing life together. He could pretend, but then V would smile, weaker than before and stained red with what blood he couldn’t wipe away, and once again Kerry would be reminded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This thing, this relationship, this unsteady dock they found themselves standing on —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>— it had an expiration date. One day, V wouldn’t come home, and Kerry would have to brace himself for that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except he can’t. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He refuses to believe V isn’t doing his best to survive, refuses to believe Johnny isn’t just as desperate to save V from himself. He’d seen how Johnny had twisted V’s expression into something honestly remorseful that night he’d told Kerry everything — in hindsight, Johnny had been truly apologetic that he’d been there begging Kerry for forgiveness at all while the body he used to ask for it was getting worse with every moment they spoke. This ticking time bomb had been lain at Kerry’s feet since the beginning and while the numbers flashing to zero had long since taken residence behind his eyelids even when he was dreaming, he refused to acknowledge the possibility that V wasn’t doing all that he could to live.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he refused to accept such an otherwise grim reality, too. A world without V in it was no world Kerry wanted to participate in, so while he couldn’t go out and gun his way through Arasaka for answers, he could do what he should have done from the beginning instead of use V for his skills and only realize his true importance once the shadow of his dead friend had left him for good: his support. His home. The limitless depths of his bank account and all the time V could possibly ask for. He couldn’t trade it for the time he was already losing, but he could fill in the gaps between one dark, painful moment and the next. He could give V the universe if he just asked, and at times, he sometimes did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rides in Kerry’s Guinevere, an easy request that he was all too glad to fulfill more than once. More time on the yacht, sometimes during the heat of the day with a big smile on V’s face and other times under the stars, the sea flat and glassy, reflecting the face of the galaxy back at itself. Five star meals eaten in the comfort of Kerry’s villa and hours spent simply talking — over text when V was too exhausted to speak, over the phone when he was driving and thinking of Kerry, and in person when they couldn’t do more than lay in bed because it was too much to ask V to get up and move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Little things. Big ones. Time, out of everything, V asked for the most, so Kerry cancelled every meeting and recording (thank God the Us Cracks girls were good girls and conceded with nothing more than a “Please take care of V for us, Kerry-san!”), and gave all he could to V. Days in, lazy mornings bleeding into lazy afternoons, time spent saying nothing when hands and mouths could say it louder. V was tired, so tired, but even when they found themselves overtaken by gasping urges, Kerry was gentle. It was hard to ask for more when the body underneath his own simply wanted comfort instead of expediency.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the inevitability, that one simple golden truth that wouldn’t leave his mind even if he’d ripped it out with pliers, drew closer. V got worse. He spent less and less time at the villa even as he sought Kerry out like a beacon during a storm. He was frantic, Kerry knew, working against a clock that was quickly becoming more urgent in its demands. When Kerry saw him that last week, he was so pale, so exhausted, he looked about ready to keel over at the barest brush of the wind against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet he soldiered on. V was relentless, desperate, clawing against the walls no matter how slippery they’d become. It was heartbreaking to watch but Kerry did — he had to. Every moment V spent alive was a moment well worth spending. Every moment he got to see V, touch him, kiss him, acknowledge that what he was doing would pay off in the end — it was all worth it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he asks V to stay. Stay home, let himself rest, find a moment to himself to sleep while Kerry kept watch. V refused at first, and for a brief second Kerry thought it was because of him that V didn’t want to stay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he pushing too much? Asking for too much? Was there anything he could do to make V feel more comfortable staying when all Kerry wanted to do was make sure he was alright —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that,” V says. He’s tired. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore. “Ker, it’s not that, it’s just —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not himself, Kerry realizes. Not wholly V and not wholly Johnny. “I wake up sometimes and realize I’m not alone anymore, that he’s always there watchin’ me and remindin’ me that I’m gonna die —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry manages to get V in bed that night. Wraps his arms around him, gentles him against the sobs he feels coming up V’s throat. He’s never seen V cry, never seen him cling so hard and cry so openly. Kerry holds him and tries not to cry himself but that’s hard, too, and before he manages to tip them into bed, he feels tears track down his cheek and soak into the shoulder of V’s jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s then he realizes his time has ran out. He won’t know until later, until it truly dries up and pushes V into doing something truly fucking stupid. V is so close, so near to ending it all right then that Kerry doesn’t realize it until it’s right up in his face threatening to take away all that he’s grown to cherish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until it comes calling. Until the inevitable becomes too much to avoid. Until he gets that last phone call from V that sounded more like a goodbye than anything Kerry’s ever heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until it all finally, dreadfully, reaches zero.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>like the previous part, this is a beast. the headcanons i am working with in this part are:</p>
<p>1. streetkid V knew and grew up with Vik as a father figure for much of his later teen years. <br/>2. V isnt really “fine” after getting johnny removed, but the symptoms lessen and his body stops deteriorating. there will be lingering problems that will be explored in the next part, but for now, things are shaky but alright</p>
<p>as always, all remaining errors are mine, and i hope you enjoy. part 3 is halfway finished and should be up soon :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>V is gone in the morning — this, at least, is typical. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>Javalina</span>
  </em>
  <span> is gone from the driveway and there’s a note taped to the body of Kerry’s (current) favourite guitar, written in V’s thin, blocky script that looks too much like Johnny’s from way back in the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Went to help Panam, dunno when I’ll be back. Text you when I’m in the city. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>— V</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry doesn’t have to call to know if V is feeling alright. That he left anything behind at all is enough — his bag is still at the end of Kerry’s bed and there’s a truly terrifying amount of ammunition sitting beside the unused bar upstairs. V is simply gone on business, and while it drives Kerry up every wall and ceiling not knowing if he’ll be alright until he gets a call saying otherwise, Kerry swallows the panic down and continues with his day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sun is going down with the barest hint of stars beginning to show their twinkling faces when Kerry’s phone buzzes on the couch, nearly twelve hours later. Kerry doesn’t hear it at first, lost as he is in his new tune, but then it vibrates itself right off the leather and clatters to the marble tile, startling him nearly into yelping. He drops his guitar and scrambles for the phone, snatching it up and swiping it unlocked when he sees it’s V calling, a relieved smile coming over his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V, hey,” Kerry says. “Did everything go alright with —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>You need to come to the coordinates I give you, and fast</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” a frantic female voice says, cutting him off. Kerry’s heart immediately starts pounding, his limbs going heavy and light all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” he manages after a breathless moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>V collapsed. He had a — he had a seizure. Please, he told me to call you if something happened. You and someone named Vik</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik? “Uh, I don’t —“ Kerry shakes his head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t — look. Call Vik. Send the coords. I’m coming.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hurry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The line dies. Kerry drops the phone, barely managing to dress himself in anything resembling outerwear with how badly his hands shake.</span>
  <em>
    <span> V collapsed. He had a — he had a seizure.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Fuck, this wasn’t happening. V still had </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span> —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s number texts him a set of coordinates the moment Kerry is walking out the door to his car. He inputs them into the GPS and sets off before he can think twice about what this may be — this could be a trap, this could be a crazy fucking fan of Kerry’s, this could be a setup by any one of V’s many enemies with the gangs of Night City — but he just doesn’t fucking care, so he drives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His car automatically switches to four-wheel drive once the paved road turns to dirt as the GPS takes him into the badlands. It’s dark now, and the dirt path quickly turns rough with rocks and dredged trenches — for nearly an hour it’s like that until the glitter of camp lights catches his attention on the horizon. The ever-present glow of Night City cloaks them well, but this must be a Nomad camp with how dangerous the path was to get to them. If Kerry hadn’t had coordinates, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find his way here on his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A group of four men meet him at the mouth of the camp, armed and waving for him to stop. He parks the car where he’s told to, then climbs out with two men standing on the driver’s side and two on the passenger, weapons raised. Kerry opens his mouth to speak but the closest man — a tall guy wearing a flight suit — shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just wait for Saul to come speak to you,” he says. If Kerry considered himself a perceptive man — and he did — this guy looked pained. Like something happened; like he knew why Kerry had rolled up to their camp in the middle of the night in a car worth more than the implants under his skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That more than anything makes him wait, swallowing down the saliva in his mouth threatening to make him throw up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t have to wait for long, thankfully, since this Saul half-jogs down the path from the main camp to meet his guards and Kerry just a few minutes after Kerry shows up. He takes one sweeping look over Kerry and motions for all the weapons to lower, and when they do, he holds a hand out to him like they were best buds meeting at the bar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry reluctantly takes it, biting back a scathing remark. “Take it you’re Saul?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saul nods. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is built like a cannon, but his grip on Kerry’s hand is soft — almost apologetic. “And you must be Kerry Eurodyne. Never thought I’d meet you on the tail end of something like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once again, Kerry bites his tongue. “This about V? I need to see him if it is. That’s what someone with his phone told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Panam,” Saul says, nodding. He motions for Kerry to follow, so he does as they walk the path up into camp. “She called pretty much right after he collapsed. He... He’s in real bad shape.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry’s vision swims. Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Was he — was he doing anything? Saying anything strange?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just sitting down having a drink after a job well done.” Saul shakes his head, and for a moment he nearly looks apologetic again. But the expression wipes away when Kerry turns a proper glare on him — he must know Kerry isn’t one to take bullshit. “He — look. Panam can explain better what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better fuckin’ hope so,” Kerry growls. “My patience is mighty fucking thin right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saul doesn’t bite back at the remark. Good. Kerry can’t keep a lid on his rage any more now that he’s so close — whatever these people did to V, they would pay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s taken through a winding row of tents filled with people quietly talking and children sleeping in cots. They’re set up radially around an open space in the camp where it seems most of the adults have gathered around a fire, playing music and also chatting amongst themselves. But there’s another group gathering around a medium-sized tent at the furthest end of the camp — away from the vehicles and sequestered safely behind a big hulking truck with a crane attached at the back end of it. The men that met Kerry appear from the other side of it, having circled around, yet Saul takes Kerry through the center of the crowd right into the tent where he sees — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry says quietly. Saul stops and Kerry keeps going, his feet taking him without having to tell them to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s stopped with a hand on his chest by a woman that’s nearly as tall as he is, a tablet curled against her bicep with her other hand. Her expression is hard, yet she seems to recognize him — God, even these fucking nomads knew who he was — yet after that initial moment of resistance, she relents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid has friends in high places,” she says, not unkindly. But she doesn’t let him pass — Kerry lets his glare slide from her face to V’s, checking him over as much as he can. The woman tilts her head, getting his attention again. “I take it you’re not his doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry snorts. “If you know who I am, then you know I’m not a fuckin’ doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brow raises, amused. Kerry wants to hit something — nothing about this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>amusing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And then her attention slips off him, moving behind him to the rustle of clothing and the scrape of boots on dirt. Kerry turns as she says, “Then you must be Vik.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A man with dark hair and tinted glasses is led into the tent by a slim woman with braids piled neatly on top of her head, carrying in his arms what looks like a portable biomonitor. His blue shirt is buttoned haphazardly and he looks like he rushed here with barely enough time to gather his tools — then again, if this is Vik, then he got as little warning as Kerry did only an hour before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, acknowledging the woman’s greeting only barely while he begins setting up his equipment without being prompted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It looks like you got him stabilized, which is good,” Vik says. His voice is low, rough, yet tight with emotion that Kerry is reluctant to name as it tightens his own throat, preventing him from speaking. The woman with the tablet nods, though now her expression is confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did, but I didn’t understand what I was doing. His biometrics are all over the place — it took all I had to keep him from another seizure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik is nodding before she finishes. “I know, I know. I’ll explain later. I —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looks around the tent, and it’s then Kerry realizes Saul and the woman that led Vik here haven’t left. The small crowd of people just outside it haven’t either, and an older woman with long brown hair and sad eyes hovers in between them, her arms crossed and her expression hurt, concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik swallows, and Kerry bristles when his eyes finally land on him. “You can stay,” he says to Kerry. “I know why you’re here. Everyone else — if you can’t be useful, I think V would appreciate the privacy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The use of V’s name, however small, sends people away. Saul, the two women, and the man who spoke to Kerry when he got here stay. Saul closes the tent and all four of them move close, though they keep to the sidelines as Vik and the woman with the tablet exchange details on how V collapsed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” Vik says suddenly, after a few minutes of quiet conversation. He’s pointing at Kerry — Kerry bites his tongue so he doesn’t mouth off. Vik must know V, or else he wouldn’t be here either. “V has talked about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry wants to laugh but keeps it down. “I hope so. Only been seeing him for a little over a month now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik shakes his head, smiling — the woman with the braids bites her lip and glances away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Vik says. “So help me get this off him — I need to get a detailed scan. He needs painkillers, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik gestures to V’s jacket and shirt. Kerry moves alongside him, thankful for now to at least have something to fucking do besides stand around and watch V breathe. It looks like all these nomads did was put him under so he couldn’t seize — and by the tight look on Vik’s face, laced with displeasure even though he’s trying to be kind, Kerry’s sure his guess is right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Vik holding V up, Kerry pulls off his jacket and tee shirt, revealing clammy tanned skin and a puncture hole from where the hypo dosed him with sedatives on his left pectoral. Vik lowers him down gently, and doesn’t wave Kerry away when he starts placing diodes across V’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Keep him calm,” Vik says quietly, though loud enough for the others to hear behind him. “Sedatives won’t do much when I start stabilizing the chip.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. The Relic. Johnny wouldn’t have done this to V on purpose, Kerry is sure of it, but the tech keeping them both alive — and killing V at the same time — was getting less and less stable. Kerry tries not to think about the absolute havok it must be wrecking on V’s system as Vik starts tapping away on the biomonitor, instead gathering one of V’s hands between his own and kneeling beside his cot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not much happens for a while. Vik doses V with painkillers after a few minutes, then assures everyone — surely just to keep people calm — that V will be fine. “This has happened before,” Vik says, “it’s nothing to worry about if I can just get his biometrics under control.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what’s causing this?” the woman with the braids finally snaps. Her voice is loud, harsh in the hush of the tent as Vik continues to work. Judging by the glares the other three nomads give her, this is normal behavior for her. Kerry would be happy to encourage her if V wasn’t dying on a cot in the middle of the fucking desert when he didn’t have to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But this isn’t his story to tell, and judging by the look Vik tosses his way — </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vik is saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>V has told you everything and you know but should we tell them? Explain why V is dying? Why he has a construct in his head killing him? </span>
  </em>
  <span>— Vik is unsure too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Panam,” Saul hisses. The young woman — Panam — whips her glare on him, but he doesn’t back down. “I think it’s clear this is something much worse than V being sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not sick,” Kerry finally says. He’s held his tongue, been good enough to these people that let him in without question — but he can’t keep quiet now. Whether these people deserved to know or not, he wasn’t sure, but V trusted them. He wouldn’t be here helping them, helping Panam, if he didn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik nods and smiles, however small, when Kerry turns a raised brow to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A good time as any,” he says quietly. He turns back to his equipment while Kerry settles on the side of the cot, careful not to jostle V too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s wrong?” Panam presses. Saul hisses at her again, but Kerry shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” he says. “I just ask that this doesn’t go beyond this tent. Beyond the people here. Am I clear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All five nomads nod. “You have our word,” Saul says. “Panam and I lead the Aldecaldos — this is our family. You can trust Mitch, Carol, and Dakota, too. Dakota is V’s fixer for the area.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older woman with longer hair nods — Dakota. Mitch, the man who greeted Kerry at the entrance to the camp, gives him a kind smile, and while Kerry is reasonably certain Carol is a kind woman, she clearly didn’t know what to do with V in his condition. It makes him angry, but he swallows that down, too. Fuck. Why did it come to him? Why did he have to tell these people this fucking wreck of a story?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panam lowers herself into a folding chair in front of him, leaning on her elbows eagerly as if she were about to hear the secrets of the universe rather than a horrible, inevitable truth. Vik moves beside him, brushing a kind touch of encouragement across Kerry’s shoulders — bringing with it enough bravery to keep down his bitterness when he breathes the name of someone he wished he could leave behind forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How much do you know of Johnny Silverhand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panam’s expression folds into confusion for a moment, as does that of Saul and Mitch behind her. “The terrorist?” Panam asks slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What a way to be remembered, Johnny</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Yeah, him,” Kerry says. “So you know who he is. That he’s dead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panam nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry flounders for a moment — Johnny had told him himself, through V, what had happened at Arasaka. The heist, V getting shot, V dying and being resurrected by the chip that’s currently killing him — the pills that let Johnny take control of V, let him live and sense and see through V’s body instead of experiencing everything secondhand. All of it; the pain of knowing that he was dead, that he was a construct of what he once was, a copy of a ghost, hitching a ride on the psyche of someone who was barely into their twenties and dooming them to die. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tells them all of it. Johnny hadn’t embellished — he hadn’t even sounded proud. He was using V’s body, using his voice, his hands, but he spoke slower than V did, less aggressive than V’s quick wit and silver tongue. Johnny hadn’t left any detail out, so Kerry doesn’t either. The seizures, the relic malfunctioning, the melding of V and Johnny until there wasn’t just a V and Johnny anymore. They needed to get Johnny out, couldn’t just remove the chip now to do it, but until then, V was dying. There was no stopping it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry stops there, unsure of what else to say. It would be him, wouldn’t it, spinning Johnny’s tale like this — it was just like Johnny to leave the weaving to Kerry. Kerry always was the better songwriter. His pride in that at least hasn’t waned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panam has her head in her heads, has had her head in her hands for the better half of Kerry’s explanation. Saul can’t seem to look at V, his expression shuttered in sorrow, while Mitch, Dakota, and Carol can’t seem to take their eyes off him. Kerry can’t either, suddenly; can’t bear to witness anything but what could be V’s last breath in this bitch they called existing. He hasn’t known V for long, but he feels like he has, like he’s known V his whole life and just had the privilege of finally meeting him just now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why?" he hears someone say after a while. Kerry doesn't know who — he can't possibly look away now and miss what could be the end of his world. Has V always been so pale, so clammy? Has he always looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired</span>
  </em>
  <span>? "Why didn't he say anything?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Let him rest," Saul says. Kerry finally manages to tear his eyes away from V, but it's a close thing. When Kerry turns to look at him, Saul is staring straight at him, his expression tired. Apologetic. He knows he isn't speaking about V.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panam nods. She stands from her seat and leads the group of nomads out of the tent, sans Carol, who stays behind with Vik. After the tent flap closes behind Dakota, Kerry feels like he can breathe, but only barely. His throat threatens to close up until he curls his hands around V's again, trying desperately to warm V up with how clammy his skin feels underneath his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik doesn't shove him away like he thought, instead working around Kerry to remove the diodes once his testing is done. Kerry helps him pick off the ones near V's waistline, then they both dress V in his shirt again, covering him up under a couple blankets Carol brings them. "Keep him warm, now," Vik says quietly. "It's the only thing that'll keep him asleep when the sedatives wear off." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry wants to ask how he knows but he keeps his mouth shut. He's not sure he could manage words anyway, even with how intimately Vik seems to know V. He can ask later, and V can tell him himself. Yes, V will wake. He will wake and explain everything when he can.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for now, he sleeps. As the sedatives wear off, V begins to twitch and murmur, no less active in sleep than he is when awake. Kerry soothes him as much as he can, as much as he’s able with Vik hovering over his shoulder and Carol sitting at the desk in the far corner, her eyes never truly leaving them. Kerry has lived a long time, but still showing affection is hard, and to have an audience makes it feel new, almost dirty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that was because Vik appeared to hover more out of true concern borne from friendship than that of a doctor. Maybe it was because they hadn’t gone beyond showing affection in the privacy of Kerry’s home, and now, to want to show it, to need to because V needed it —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry fights off the itchy stares of Vik and Carol (even knowing full well that he wasn’t a child needing to be monitored, he was a grown-ass man in a grown-ass relationship, thank you very much), he reaches out and smoothes his hand over V’s hair. He scoots close, careful not to jostle the cot too much, cradling V’s hand against his chest as gently as he can. V is warm, but still the insides of his wrists are damp, and his fringe is too when Kerry leans over him to kiss his forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries not to panic at the thought of a fever. Vik is right beside him, monitoring V and doing all he can. He’s been assured that as terrifying as it sounds, V has survived through this before and he will again. It takes all he has to bite back the worry and instead channel it into gentle touches and reassuring murmurs, reigning in his rebellious heart so it doesn’t show on his face or in the shake of his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knows he can’t hide it, however. Not when he leans back just enough to breathe and sees Vik looking at him with wet eyes — not when he sees the true pain there behind tinted glasses in the shadow of the ripper’s shoulders. It takes all he has not to shake apart right there. It takes V’s hand tightening in his own for his body not to shatter into millions of pieces of glittering glass at the mere thought of being so heartbroken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry returns V’s grip just enough for the other man to know he isn’t alone, leaning back down to kiss reassurances against his cheek. “‘M here,” he murmurs. He doesn’t bother to see if Vik has looked away. Why should it matter when his heart already lay dying in his hands?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V says something unintelligible in response, though his eyes never open. His grip on Kerry’s hand wanes, and then he relaxes again, the twitching of his fingers and lips disappearing until the only movement from him is the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Vik announces that he’s finally hit his REM cycle, relief plain in his tone as he steps away from the biomonitor for the first time since arriving. Kerry lets the apparent good news wash over him, the unknown tension between his shoulder blades dissipating. God, finally he can breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sleep, however, doesn’t come. The Aldecaldo camp around them quiets down, falling silent somewhere around two in the morning. Carol excuses herself around that same time, slipping out of the tent before Vik can kick her out. Vik, however, stays, wordlessly bringing up a chair beside Kerry, lounging back in it while leaning onto Carol’s desk beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can turn in if you want, too,” he says softly. Kerry shakes his head — he wouldn’t unwind himself from V’s slack grip even if he’d needed to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not about to leave him alone,” Kerry says. “He shouldn’t — shouldn’t be alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik’s lopsided smile is understanding, if pained. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the things he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> — “I know. Won’t leave him either. He really —“ Vik stops, rubbing a hand under his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Kid means a lot to me, ‘s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry snorts. Yeah, can’t argue that, either. Yet still something niggles at him, gnawing under his skin until he can’t hold it back any longer. “He told you about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Vik’s turn to scoff and shake his head. “Kid practically gushed like a teen in high school. Never seen him so head over heels, and I’ve known him since he was fifteen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing bad, I hope,” Kerry says after a short pause. Vik really was V’s father, in a sense. To be sitting here having this conversation with him would set in stone Kerry’s (hopefully long) future beside V if he could make the right impression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik’s brow ticks up in amusement despite the more serious smile settling onto his face. Kerry can see he’s used to smiling — the lines carved beside his mouth and eyes show it. “Nothin’ bad. I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You have my blessing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Vik is saying. In the nod of his head and the gentle tilt of his mouth, he’s handing over his approval on the condition he will break Kerry’s teeth should he toe the line. The not-unsubtle threat in the flex of Vik’s hands does not go unnoticed as Kerry dips his chin in gratitude.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Words catch in his throat again, though Vik doesn’t seem to mind.  A comfortable quiet settles over them, and for hours they watch as V sleeps through the night without issue. Once his brain activity spikes for a while — maybe fifteen minutes — but Vik explains it’s Johnny, not V, causing the spike. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sharing a brain,” he says quietly. “One of ‘em wakes earlier than the other it seems.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry tries not to think about being watched by Johnny while V sleeps. He’s done with Johnny, done with his haunting apparition hanging over him, poisoning him, turning him into something he’s not. He has a reason to live beyond the thrill of a crowd and the cry of his sad guitar, and that reason needed his support now more than ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point — he’s not sure when — he must’ve fallen asleep. He wakes to a gentle caress trailing across his brow, shaky and without destination. He blinks his eyes open and realizes he’s leaning on V’s stomach, head pillowed in his own arms, V’s tired grey eyes peering back at him from where his head and shoulders are propped up on some pillows.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mornin’, Ker,” V says quietly. His voice is rough with sleep, and his fingers don’t stop trailing through Kerry’s hair. His lips tick up in a lopsided smile when Kerry sits up, pressing into his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should sleep,” Kerry says. He cups V’s jaw, realizing belatedly that his other hand is still entwined with V’s. They hadn’t let each other go all night — it sends Kerry’s heart beating up his throat, silencing whatever admonishment he might have mustered at V’s weak eye roll.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No ‘good mornin’’ back? I see how it is,” V teases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry can’t keep himself from smiling even as he wants to scowl and tell V off. “Fine. Good morning, you fucking idiot. I’m glad you’re awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s gentle when he tilts V’s face and kisses him. The twinge of pain in V’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed, and still Vik is a constant presence beside them even as he works away on the biomonitor. He must not have slept at all, though he gives them the privacy of ignorance all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M sorry,” V says the moment they separate. His fingers tighten in Kerry’s own, urging him to stay close as he weakly tugs his hand against his chest. “Didn’t mean to — to fall.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry bites his tongue but he can’t help it. “You stop apologizing right now, or I’m going to burn down a lot more than a fucking yacht right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V shakes his head. “I shoulda been more careful —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoulda nothin’,” Kerry says sternly. “You look at me right now, V, and don’t look away for a moment. You hear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry doesn’t budge, doesn’t even hiss or curl his lip, until V can meet his eyes with his own unsteady stare for more than a few seconds. V is tired, hurting, and more than a little embarrassed, he knows. He’s sure to have deduced that Panam and Saul know his secret by now, sure that he can’t keep hiding under the lie of simply being a little sick after collapsing and waking up a whole day later in an unfamiliar camp to where he’d been before. Everyone saw him fall, and Kerry knows if he walked out this tent right now, people would be begging for answers before he could give them any.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stares at V until V stares back, unwavering. “You’re hurt,” Kerry says after that. Hard, but gentle, because this is V, the softest, most tender part of himself. He couldn’t hurt V if he tried. “Ain’t nothing to be sorry for other than yourself. We will find a way to fix this, and now that Panam knows, maybe she can figure something out too as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V is nodding before he can finish. “I know, I know, I’m not afraid of that, it’s just — I’m sorry for scaring everyone. For lying. They don’t deserve that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V —“. Kerry sighs, rubs his face with his free hand. Looks at V and tries to make him understand with just that. “No one cares that you scared them. Only now they know you’re way more than sick and they want to help you. You know they got you stabilized before Vik even got here, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V tosses a guilty glance Vik’s way before he can mask it. “Yeah, I — I gathered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let us help you for fuck’s sake, V!” Kerry leans close, untangling their fingers to take V’s face between his palms. He isn’t as hot as he was last night, isn’t so sweaty and feverish. The relic is under control for now, at least. They had time. They had </span>
  <em>
    <span>time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V relaxes in his touch, melting against his palms like a day spent lounging in bed. Fuck, he was getting V home and they were sleeping properly for two straight days if Kerry had anything to say about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” V mumbles. He looks away, but Kerry catches his eyes before he can hide. “Okay, I’ll let them help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll let me, too,” Kerry says. “Please, V, I — I need to help you. Have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. “Yeah. Yeah, Ker. Anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry lets their foreheads press together. V’s hands come up to cover his own, rough and smooth in equal turns. The tent, the camp, everything falls away — it’s just them, just V and Kerry and the gentle, even puff of V’s breath against his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It comes to him right then, unbidden and without second thought. Pressing against his teeth, begging to be let out if only this one time in his too-long life. If he didn’t mean it now, there would never come a time when he didn’t mean it, at least not for anyone that wasn’t this man between his hands. There had been a time where it may have been for someone else, but — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you,” Kerry says. Not for anyone else, not for the past or the shadows clinging to it like wolves on a long-dead thing already forgotten. He’s moved past it, stepped on to better things. Things more deserving than bitter carrion rotting in the dark. “Love you, V, with — with everything I got.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t expect anything back. Nothing so profound, nothing at all, even, from a man dying from something so unimaginable. But still V shifts underneath his hands, leans forward with all the strength he has and gathers against him what he can of Kerry, weak as his grip on his face and neck and shoulders he may be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love you too,” V says back. Quiet, gravel-rough, worn through with all that’s happened and all that still needs to be done. It warms Kerry right through like lightning striking inside him, bursting out from his core all the way to his calloused fingertips. There isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for V, no lengths he wouldn’t go, no road left undriven — and to slot into place beside him, to be as treasured and unreplaceable even to a man doomed to die — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a lot. Leaves him speechless except for the melodies that always thrum underneath his skin, even in the hours he lay sleeping, wondering if V is alright, if he’s alive, if he’ll wake up and V will have already passed on. For now, that fear is assuaged. For now, he has this, this little neutron star of everything he could have ever wanted. V, in all that he is, in all that he is willing to give and more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik gently asks for time to check on V, waiting until Kerry can finally speak to pry. Kerry helps him get V onto his back again, unable to swallow down his heartbeat, yet also still unable to take his hands from V just yet. He needs to get the man alone, needs to know he’s okay, that he isn’t hurting — but Vik needs this too. V is his son, and a father’s need for reassurance supersedes Kerry’s for now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V doesn’t fight when they ask him for a couple more scans. He waits patiently until Vik says he can try standing, and does so without wobbling after a few minutes spent trying to get the tent to stop spinning. The relic has stopped malfunctioning for now, and Johnny is quiet, he says — “giving me encouragement but not being a fucking ass about it for a change.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take what you can get, trust me,” Kerry says, chuckling. “Asshole barely knows how to string a compliment together if it doesn’t get him some ass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V shakes his head with a smile. He’s standing on his own, looking healthier than he has in days — Vik’s quietly proud smile doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them when V turns a crooked brow on him in askance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All’s well,” Vik assures. “I would say good as new, but I’ll need you to come see me four times a week instead of three this time around, kiddo.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s smile tightens, but he nods. “Think I can swing that. Thanks, Vik.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.” Vik gestures to the closed tent opening, his other hand sliding across V’s shoulders in a sideways hug. “I’ll pack up here and meet you at the car? I think you should go home and rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik isn’t asking, even with how kind his tone is. V seems to understand far more intimately than Kerry does, because he’s nodding before Vik can finish, looking scolded even as he smiles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’ll talk to Panam and the others and... and meet you back at my place?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik shakes his head. He pointedly looks at Kerry, his eyes a little softer. Kerry would feel exposed if he hadn’t poured his heart out to V in front of this man not a half hour earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll follow you to his,” Vik says. “Think you need more than time alone in bed, kiddo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. Kerry and Vik look at each other for one brief moment before they gather V between the both of them and hug him as gently yet as tightly as they can, smiling as V gives a token fight before giving in. Vik steps away with a hand ruffling through V’s hair, moving on to packing his equipment, leaving Kerry to help V into his shoes and jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V kisses him gently, a quiet thank you before leading the way out of the tent and into the Aldecaldo camp. The sun has barely risen, washing every shadow in deep blues as the sky turns pink and orange. People are awake, cooking breakfast and stumbling through morning routines, but every single person they pass smiles and pats V on the shoulder. Gentle words follow in their wake, and it’s then Kerry realizes the impact V has on the people around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not just his life V has changed. Not just his fate, the course his life has taken when he was too absorbed to take the wheel and steer himself back to safety. V was a lone merc, a danger to the people he worked with and an even bigger threat to those who dared cross him. He had a reputation of being bad luck and incredibly dangerous in equal terms, but these people, this family of misfits and border hoppers — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They saw a friend. A brother. Someone who neither hurts them nor scares them. He’d saved them once with the help of Panam, and all they’d done was return the favor. Kerry would compare walking behind his hallowed steps to a certain long-dead bandmate, but then V tugs him beside him with a gentle caress, twines their fingers and smiles so small. On equal ground, one neither following or leading. Kerry feels himself fall that little bit more, unable to claw himself back out if he wanted to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V seems to know his way around the camp even though he hasn’t seen it before, taking Kerry to a trailer that seems to be the brains of this little nomad operation. A ripper chair occupies the first half of the trailer, and screens and computers occupy the other, with Panam and Saul huddled close next to one, watching one particular screen as it sweeps a circle around itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Radar, Kerry realizes. That’s right. They were in the middle of a desert and danger still lurked, even with how insulated they were. Neither Panam or Saul seem particularly worried when they turn to greet V, careful not to jostle him too much when they reach out to hug him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re awake,” Panam says. Her hands linger on V’s shoulders, sliding over his jacket as she hovers close. Kerry tries not to bristle — V squeezes his hand in reassurance, tugging him that little bit closer. Kerry slides his arm around V’s waist, breathing out his anger instead of voicing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for patching me up,” V says. His expression pinches as he looks between both Saul and Panam. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t want an apology,” Saul says. “Just glad you’re alright. You’re in a lot worse shape than you look — could have told us, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His tone is far from admonishing, but V shrinks all the same. “Just — never found the right time. Didn’t seem right, to tell you when you needed the help more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our problems are pretty much solved because of you,” Panam says. “But we want to help. However we can. This is a little beyond us, but we will help look for a solution.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V hangs his head, huffing a laugh — it’s apparent even to Kerry he’s lost this fight. “Alright. I’ll send you what I know, though it’s not much. I can ask Vik to send you my scans so you can go over them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already done,” Saul says. His smile is rueful as V meets his eyes with surprise. “Neither of your visitors slept all night. You have more people willing to help than you realize, V. I hope you know that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nudges him, unable to keep himself from pressing a kiss to V’s cheek. He tries not to notice Panam looking away — that’s a battle for another time. “He’s right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. He seems to get it now, the enormity of the people surrounding him, willing to protect and kill for him. He reaches out when Saul goes to give him a firm handshake, returning it with just as much promise as Saul as giving him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be a stranger,” Panam says. She and V hug, though this time Panam’s hands don’t linger. “Show you out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. “Thanks. Both of you. All of you — I won’t waste what you’re giving me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saul dips his chin. “Just take care, V. Let us work while you rest. Keep you updated, yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, sure. Panam has my number.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Saul waves, and with that, V and Kerry follow Panam out to the edge of the camp. More people greet V and give him their well-wishes, warming Kerry through more and more. Even at the fringe of the camp, people loiter, some familiar faces coming up to wave V goodbye and promise him help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to see you up,” Mitch calls, jogging from the tent a Panzer tank sits under to meet them as V checks over his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Javelina. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Drove your ride over here. Hope you don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” V laughs. He and Mitch embrace, though Mitch is careful not to squeeze too hard. “Thanks. I’ll be back, but I... I need some rest. Where it won’t be a hundred degrees in the shade in an hour.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mitch scoffs. “No offense taken. Probably need to wash the sand away, too. You had quite the fall, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry squeezes V’s shoulder as he looks away, embarrassed. “Y-yeah. Thanks for taking care of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mitch’s smile is kind. He turns it on Kerry then as V tries hiding in the collar of his jacket, the full force of his kindness nearly knocking Kerry off his feet as he comes in and squeezes Kerry to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You take good care of him, y’hear?” Mitch says, kindly yet sternly. “He needs a good hitch, and I think he found the one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I — the fuck you saying about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>hitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> —“ V stammers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, there’s more to me than a hitch,” Kerry laughs. The familiarity with these people is a nice breath of fresh air, he realizes. They don’t care that he’s Kerry Eurodyne— they care that he’s here for V, to take care of him. Fuck, does he have it </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“But yeah. I got him. These hands were made for more than strumming guitars, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You found yourself a good one,” Mitch nods as V continues to sputter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cute</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Dropped everything to come here. Panam coulda been a ransomer for all he knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I sound like a ransomer to you?” Panam says, offended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry turns his smile on V. The other man is trying desperately to hide — in his jacket, behind his hands, as he turns to glare at Mitch. But Mitch’s mirth is infectious, and Kerry is slinging an arm across his shoulders before he can tell himself that they need to get V home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have it bad for you, V,” Kerry says. “You should listen to your elders. They know a thing or two about this stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M going home,” V grumbles as he dips his head, trying to hide his smile. “Getting way too mushy over here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mushy</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Kerry says, scandalized. “I’ll show you </span>
  <em>
    <span>mushy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slides off Mitch, slinking his arms around V and tugging him close. He plants a big kiss on the corner of his mouth, missing his mouth just to hear him whine and complain about having an audience.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then Vik finally joins them, carrying his equipment in both hands. Kerry lets V wiggle out of his arms to help Vik load it into V’s car before waving his final goodbyes. Vik will take V’s car home, and Kerry will take V in his — Vik had taken a Delemain cab here, and it seems like he’d sent it away sometime during the night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call if you need anything,” Panam says as she comes around to the passenger side of Kerry’s car. She’s careful not to lean on it even though he’s already driven it through the desert here, and is about to again. “We’ll be in touch with whatever we find, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. He accepts her last hug, however awkward it is with him already sitting in his seat. “Take care, Panam. I’ll be around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Mitch needs someone to shoot the shit with every now and then.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mitch snorts from behind Panam. “Just come around from time to time. Always welcome here.” He turns his smile on Kerry on the other side of the car. “You, too. You seem like someone that likes driving dangerous vehicles through minefields.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry and V share a look. “I do like blowing things up,” Kerry says with a grin. “Sure I won’t be a nuisance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Mitch waves his concern away. “Now drive safe. Raffen shouldn’t be around for another thirty miles or so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. He steps fully into his car, settling into the driver’s seat with a sigh. V waves, and then his door slides closed as Kerry’s does, encasing them both in darkness until the screens blink to life, bringing with them a view of the outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive home is quiet. V dozes, leaning his seat back to sleep even as the ride turns bumpy. Kerry keeps his hands on the wheel even as he desperately needs to touch V, to know that he’s real and there — they’ll have time for that later, he tells himself. Later, when V is clean and safe and able to rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik breaks off from the road to head into the city with a flash of his brights before speeding away. He’d promised to come by later to check V’s vitals, to make sure everything was stable for V to continue with his merc work, but for now they have the day. Kerry takes them up into North Oak, thankful for the smoother drive as V sleeps beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mahal</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kerry says gently when they finally get home. He slides his hand up V’s neck, rubbing his thumb gently under one eye to wake him without shaking him. V blinks awake, bleary, looking confused for a few seconds before placing himself at Kerry’s villa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already?” V mumbles. He sits up with little difficulty, following the gentle touch of Kerry’s hand on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Let’s get you inside.” Kerry tugs him up, letting the car close and lock itself behind him. “Shower first, then something to eat. Then bed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t mind breakfast,” V yawns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then you shower and I’ll cook.” At V’s raised brow, Kerry smiles. “What? Didn’t think I could?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Said you had a cook, didn’t you? He’s not here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah,” Kerry says. “Just us. Besides, I was a mere mortal before stumbling upon all this wealth. I can cook, V.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V presses an apologetic kiss against his cheek. “Yeah. Didn’t mean to imply — thanks, Kerry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry returns the kiss easily. “You’re welcome. Now seriously: shower. You’ll feel better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. He wanders off to the bathroom, commenting idly on how clean the place is. Kerry preens if only because he did the cleaning himself — after the first couple weeks, managing to pick himself up off the floor after an all-nighter was enough. After V, he realized what a child he really had been, and cleaning seemed like the most reasonable thing to start with now that he’d clawed his way out of that particular pit of despair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, Ariel left the fridge stocked with his favourites despite being gone for the day. Kerry begins a pot of rice in the cooker before grabbing some cured beef from the pantry, slicing it into thin slices to make it easier to eat. He’s sure V is tired, and he’s more than sure V won’t manage to eat more than a few bites, so he wants this to be as easy to eat as possible before V passes out for the day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry crisps the meat in a pan with oil before portioning it onto two plates with rice. The shower stops around then, giving Kerry just enough time to fry a couple eggs sunny side up and slide them onto each of their plates right as V comes around the corner, looking a little better than he did earlier now that he’s clean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He perks at the smell of food, looking interested as he slides onto a stool at the kitchen island beside Kerry. “Looks good, Ker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry’s heart melts a little more. “A little comfort food goes a long way. Nothing you aren’t used to — well, maybe real meat. And eggs.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Smells really good,” V agrees. He slices his egg in half with the side of his fork and takes a bite, his shoulders immediately dropping as he relaxes. The look on his face — Kerry wants to remember such bliss forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eat quietly, V more slowly than Kerry. He downs a couple glasses of water too, more thirsty than he probably realized, which Kerry teases him about. V smiles, far too tired to argue — instead, he’s grateful, thanking Kerry with touches and kisses that he’s far too shy to express with words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s... nice. Domestic in a way Kerry hasn’t been in a long time. It’s clear V isn’t well-versed at this either — clear that V is far more used to waking alone, grabbing a gun, and starting his day with circuitous talks about eddies and who was unlucky enough to meet their end by his hands. V is a killer, Kerry reminds himself, in the same way he’s reminded by the cybernetics in V’s arms, his palms, the curve of his cheeks and nape. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This man was built to kill, and yet Kerry kisses him to sleep after tugging off his shirt and jeans. Today he rests, free from the prying clutches of fixers asking for a death, a kidnapping, a home in need of thievery. Kerry skates his hands up V’s sides, counting his breaths in, and kisses his worries away, counting each exhale until finally he finds rest, too.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He meets V when the kid barely comes up to his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s purely by accident. Vik had been a ripper even back then, when he started his mornings nursing broken knuckles and loose teeth after short, bloody bouts in back alley rings. His clinic was small and didn’t attract the attention of gangs and corps alike as it does now, but he was successful in his own right, and happy enough to have it even though it was in a shitty part of Heywood too close to the water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was closing up shop one night after a slow day when he practically trips over a huddled body on the stoop. The tiny body coils around itself tighter, lanky arms and legs hiding a face Vik wouldn’t see properly until he got the kid into his clinic to take a look. As it was, he kneels down a respectable distance away, careful of moving too quickly as the kid shrinks further against the filthy concrete wall Vik’s shop is set into. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Vik calls softly. “It’s okay, kid. You alright? You hurt anywhere?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kid doesn’t speak. They don’t even move until Vik scoots a few inches closer and swipes a hand down the back of their head, feeling for blood or trauma, expecting nothing until the tips of his fingers touch the kid’s shirt and come away red.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O-okay, easy,” Vik says. “You’re hurt, right? Can I help you up? Do you think you can walk?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then the kid takes in a huge, painful, gasping breath, wet with blood filling their lungs. Vik panics — he’s never operated on a kid before — but before his hands can shake or his nerves can set in, adrenaline floods his limbs with a sense of calm he only feels right before he steps into the ring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me help,” he murmurs quietly, getting up from his squat. He worms his hands underneath the kid’s armpits and manages to get them up to their wobbly feet, seeing for the first time the truly grotesque amount of blood smeared against the wall and pooling on the ground where the kid had been sitting. They’re small, lanky, and barely weigh anything, and they don’t put up much of a fight when Vik lifts the kid in his arms and carries them into his clinic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s clean, albeit plain, and the ripper chair still squeaks of newness when he lays the kid on top of it and flicks on the overhead lights. The kid doesn’t flinch, barely even groans in pain, when Vik rolls them over and cuts open their tattered blood-soaked shirt to reveal a gunshot that pierces right through them and a slash that bisects it, clean and swift right below the kid’s shoulder blades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Vik hisses. “Okay, let me get you hooked up to this —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He types the kid’s blood while gathering surgical tools and supplies, then returns with the proper bags hooked up to a transfusion pole he rolls across the chair so it can drip while he works. He cleans up the kid fast, having to cut through more material underneath the kid’s ruined shirt before he frees them from their clothes properly. He doses them with painkillers and a general anesthetic, then gets to work, breathing through the motions as simply and easily as he would a fight with an opponent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More than an hour later, he has the kid stitched up and sleeping on a gurney in his office, on his second bag of blood and fluids. The kid is skinny, with barely any weight on them, and Vik suspects the wounds are less from some stupid fight and more from a serious run-in with the Claws.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He won’t learn until later that the kid hadn’t done anything wrong (as if attacking a kid could be justified). He’d just gotten caught up between a gang firefight, and instead of running for his life like he should have, he’d tried to save a couple of younger kids from the shootout. Got caught, gunned down, and didn’t get to save the kids after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crawled his bleeding ass all the way to Viktor Vector, because no other ripper wanted anything to do with a dead body of a kid they had to dump in the morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But at this point, he doesn’t know that. He lets the kid sleep off the meds, and in the morning in post-anesthesia delirium, he gets the kid’s name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just V,” the kid croaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, “Just V”,” Vik laughs. “Got a place to stay? Anywhere I can take you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just V” shakes his head. His face is guarded, almost unnaturally blank for a kid his age. He couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen, and already he looked like he’d seen too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nowhere,” “Just V” says. “I got nowhere.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik crosses his arms and sighs. He can’t very well toss this kid out on his ass with a hole in his back, and he can’t very well expect him to survive on his own even if he sheltered him for a few weeks. But it’s not like he had room back at his apartment either, and what if someone came knocking looking for the kid? Vik was a ripper and a boxer, and his boxing career was already taking a massive nosedive with all these chromed idiots entering the ring nowadays. Killing wasn’t in his blood. Neither was child-rearing, that was for damned sure — but the kid was old enough, and he’d survived on the streets long enough...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have any eddies to pay you back,” “Just V” croaks after a while, shaking Vik out of his thoughts. “I can’t pay you back for saving me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik frowns. “I’m not asking for money, kid. Just thinking about what to do with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just V” struggles to sit up on the gurney, and Vik helps him up only because he can tell this kid doesn’t take no for an answer in any circumstances. “Then let me work. I can run you some meds, if you need, or go find you some secondhand chrome —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’m not asking for cash, and I’m not any secondhand ripper, either,” Vik says. “You’ll get better and then decide what to do. Right now, you got a ten inch long slash and bullet hole in your back. I’ll take you back to mine, let you rest, then you can take off if you want. Sound fair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just V” looks up at him, and it’s then Vik sees how determined this kid is. To live, to fight — to do whatever it took so he saw another day. Vik can’t let him go then, can’t kick him out and can’t ask for much more than his good health. So he moves the kid in, cleans out his spare room and buys a bed because he’s only ever lived alone and hadn’t a need for a proper guest bedroom. He ends up dragging medical equipment into the apartment to keep up with V’s healing wounds and buys clothes because he has nothing but the ones Vik cut off him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s never had to look after a kid before. Never had to worry about anyone’s needs but his own. Yet when he brings V to his tiny apartment after keeping him under observation at the clinic, the look on V’s face —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” V says quietly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shyly, </span>
  </em>
  <span>if Vik had to use an adjective. He drops the backpack Vik had given him full of clothes and toiletries and wraps those long arms around his waist and squeezes for all he’s worth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then Vik knows. He hugs the kid back, resting his chin on the top of his head. He’d do all he could to keep V safe. He’d dump all he can, all he could, all that he was worth, into this kid’s safety come hell or high fucking water.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then he knows a large part of his heart is carved out for V. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem, kiddo,” Vik says softly. “No problem at all.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the intermittent weeks, V gets worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s what Kerry had dreaded the most. What he’d been counting down to quietly and without an idea on what to do when V’s days finally ran out. He’d tried to give V what he could, tried to make what wonders from nothing that V deserved during the twilight of whatever time he had left. He’d tried. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then it came too fast. It ran out too quickly. And Kerry was in a meeting for the first time since he cancelled everything to care for V weeks ago when his phone rings, bringing with it what Kerry had feared from the very beginning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry sighs happily. He doesn’t know what this phone call brings, yet. But it’s V. God, is he always happy to hear from V. “What’re you up to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey, Ker</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” V says when Kerry answers. His voice shakes, trembling with something like fear. It makes Kerry’s stomach sink and has him sitting up straighter in his seat. ”</span>
  <em>
    <span>How’s things?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright,” Kerry says slowly. Something wasn’t right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>V</span>
  </em>
  <span> wan’t right. “Listen, V — you don’t sound good. Are you okay? Do you need me to come get you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence. Kerry could very well drop everything right now if V simply asked — this meeting wasn’t important anyway. Kovachek is giving him a light glare, but he knows better than to interrupt Kerry now. Especially with V — Kerry had been clear that any nosing into his input would result in more than just property damage. So far, Kovachek had been good about not following up on the threat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, no</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” V says after a too-long beat. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, Kerry, I — just wanted to hear you, is all. Just wanted to hear your voice</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry can’t deny him that, then. Even as this stinks to high fuckin’ heaven. “I’m here. Workin’ on the demo — the one you heard earlier. Not done yet, but this’ll be for you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kovachek’s brows furrow. “Honey?” he mouths. Kerry ignores him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>Listen, I </span>
  </em>
  <span>—“ V stops. Breathes in, out. Kerry can imagine the feeling of that chest underneath his ear, that strong heartbeat thudding a lullaby as he breathes. Fuck, he should have asked V to join him. V was in trouble. Kerry was in this stupid fucking meeting while V was planning something truly fucking idiotic —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay there,” Kerry says, hard. “V, just stay there and I’ll come get you. Are you at home? Your apartment? Tell me where.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>”I gotta go</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” V says instead. ”</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll, I’ll talk to you later.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The line goes dead. Kerry curses and tries to redial, but instead of voicemail, it disconnects immediately. Kerry is out of his seat and marching out of the board room before Kovachek can scramble after him, shouting and sputtering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We aren’t done yet!” he squawks. “Kerry — this is important business we have to talk about! I’m not going to have you running off after some boytoy again —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Anger flares hot under Kerry’s skin, making his blood boil. He rounds on Kovachek with his fist clenched, blind and unthinking, unable to feel the connection with Kovachek’s cybernetically manicured face until a few seconds after he punches him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call him a boytoy one more fucking time, and I’ll burn down more than your stupid fucking yacht,” Kerry growls. Kovachek groans where he’s rolling against the wall, cradling his broken nose and bright red cheek. Kerry leaves him there, practically running out of the MSM Records building to his car at the VIP parking, rapidly calling V over and over despite being disconnected before the first ring can follow through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’s in the car, he switches to another number he hasn’t had the chance to use since it was given to him weeks ago after V’s last seizure. Vik picks up on the second ring, his face concerned on the holo, forehead creased and already looking far too frazzled for someone who’s normally so collected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry seethes. “Where is he?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik shakes his head. ”</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just — come by the clinic. I’ll explain as well as I can</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You better not be telling me what I think you’re telling me —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s worse than that. Just come. Misty will show you the way.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik hangs up before Kerry can start shouting, which, in the grand scheme of things, is probably good. Kerry grips the wheel and drives far more aggressively than he should after Vik sends him the GPS information for his clinic, but then again, V’s life was on the line. Kerry didn’t care how many near-misses he had if it meant he could stop V from doing something monumentally stupid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns down a sidestreet probably not meant for cars ten minutes later, searching for a place to park before deciding it doesn’t fucking matter and parks as out of the way as he can on the curb next to a strip club. Vik’s clinic is not too far further into the alley — just a straight shot down past a couple oddball shops — but before he can properly storm down past the late night crowds, a petite blonde woman in leather platforms gently grabs his arm and tugs him to the side, her smile apologetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for grabbing you,” she says before Kerry can growl at her. Her voice is soft and kind, and immediately she drops her hand from his arm. “You talked to Vik earlier, right? I’m Misty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry deflates at her introduction, whatever sharp remark he had pushing against his teeth dissipating. “Yeah. Where’s V?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her expression pinches. Just like Vik, it’s obvious her face is used to smiling, not frowning, and Kerry regrets making her even as his heart yearns to know the truth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” she says instead. “We shouldn’t talk out here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns and swiftly leads him down the alley, weaving through the night foot traffic with ease. Kerry trots after her, blinking only a little in surprise when she turns into a shop with a big neon sign above it that says “Misty’s Esoterica”. She seems like an airy, spiritual person — an odd fit for a person like V. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then again, so was Kerry. He swallows that particular anxiety down and follows Misty through her quiet shop after she locks the door behind them, leading him out into a grungy back stoop and down some stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pushes open the door at the bottom and then the metal accordion grating, the hinges well-oiled and making little sound. Just past them is a dimly-lit but clean ripper clinic, and sitting at a large L-shaped desk with boxing trophies and medical texts strewn across it is Vik, his face in his hands, leg jogging in obvious distress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, Kerry can’t hold back his ire. The ripper chair in the far center of the room has an obvious wet smear of blood on it, as do the tools next to it. The biomonitor closest to the chair is turned towards the rest of the room, its display still on with a brain scan pulled up on it. V’s brain scan, if Kerry had to guess, and by Vik and Misty’s careful silence, he may be right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath to steady himself before he really devolves into shouting. These people care about V, too. They’re the closest thing he has to a family. They’re worried, too. Just like he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” Kerry says as calmly as he can. Vik flinches, and Misty curls her arms around herself, sinking down onto the steps leading into the clinic with the careful grace of someone trying to hold everything together, to be strong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It makes Kerry ache more than his own desperation. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, V, what have you done?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He, uh,” Vik starts. His voice shakes, as does his head when he finally leans back enough in his rolling stool to properly look at Kerry. His eyes hold so much regret and sadness — Kerry can hardly keep his stare. “He — he went off. To Arasaka. By himself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By himse —“ Kerry shouts, then snaps his jaw shut. He buries his face in his hands, shouts into his palms instead. Arasaka? By </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not alone,” Misty says, small and with just enough hope that Kerry almost believes it until her words register. “He has Johnny. They’ll get through this together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Johnny is the reason he went off and did this on his own in the first place!” Kerry paces, suddenly unable to keep all this energy from escaping him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels like a live wire, like he needs to scream and pound his feet and thrash an axe around to the thrum of a beat before he can feel like himself again, but he can’t. There isn’t anywhere he can direct his energy that would be useful, nowhere and no one he can turn to that wouldn’t make this situation worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, Johnny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he curses before he takes a deep breath and manages not to throw something before he can regret it. This is Vik’s clinic, he says. These people care. They’re just as worried as he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Johnny. Johnny had to have taken over, had to have overridden what last remaining shred of self V had managed to cling to for the last couple weeks and used it for his own gain. That’s what had happened fifty years ago — that’s what had driven his friend to suicide by nuclear warhead. V was just a convenient, able body, tuned to kill already. V had been Johnny’s lucky second chance to stick it to the corporation that had so far risen from the ashes like some devil-headed phoenix.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry sees red. The red of V’s blood on the ripper chair, the red on Vik’s shirt from where V had clung to him — it’s too much. He collapses next to Misty, his head in his hands, leaning all his weight against his knees hoping they can hold him despite his feet being unable to. He wants to cry, suddenly, wants to scream and curse Johnny’s god awful name until it brought V home. Wants to throw himself behind a gun despite never knowing what it felt like to defend someone with his own life, to kill anyone beyond himself and his own base, superficial career.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand slides across his shoulders, warm and small but so much more than a simple touch. Misty leans against him, taking from him her own comfort as much as offering her own. On instinct, Kerry wraps an arm around her waist — of his own volition, he tugs her closer, letting her press her face into his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll come back,” she says quietly. She sounds close to tears herself while Kerry’s own burn behind his eyeballs. Vik can’t look at either of them, his face covered by his hands again. The news station drones on in front of him, ever vigilant in his need to know if V is dead yet, but he is still quiet. Kerry can’t manage more than a nod before he’s turning his face and pressing his tears into Misty’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait like that for hours. Kerry swallows down his pride and fear and heartache and just listens — to the drone of the commercials and the placidly uninterested tone of the newscasters as they talk about mundane shit around the city. Nothing about Arasaka, nothing about a lone psychotic merc breaking down the doors only to be shot dead by a firing squad waiting on the other side. The night continues on like a part of Kerry’s soul hadn’t walked out of this clinic hours ago on a suicide mission with no help besides the construct in his head egging him on with intentions not his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like eternity, waiting. Feels like every part of Kerry is flayed apart for inspection like an animal strung up on a hunting bar, a carcass ready to be butchered into pieces. The core of himself has already been scooped out, leaving him empty and useless. He isn’t sure he’s himself right now or someone else, someone more hollow than he’d been before V came along. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, morning comes. Kerry jostles Misty against him to wake her, smiling apologetically as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. Her makeup is smeared across her face but she doesn’t appear to care as he looks her up and down, assessing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel like wandering around looking for V with me?” he asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty is nodding before he can finish speaking. “City center,” she says. As if he could forget where Arasaka tower was — as if he could forget where one friend died so long ago, and now his lover was doomed to die, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll need a doctor,” Vik says, his voice rough and strained. It’s the first thing he’s said all night, though Kerry can’t blame him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. He tugs Misty up from the stairs alongside him, helping her stand. Vik stands as well and begins gathering a bag of supplies — gauze and hypos and minor surgery supplies. Kerry tries not to take stock, tries not to follow Vik’s line of reasoning as he searches around his own clinic, mumbling to himself. Vik joins them after one quick circuit back around the clinic, double checking things, then Kerry leads them up through the alley and Misty’s shop, letting her lock up before taking them to his car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>None of them can speak, Kerry realizes, which is fine. He’s not sure he could say anything that wasn’t V’s name, anyway, so he just helps Misty into the back seat before taking Vik’s bag and gently loading it in beside her. Vik’s hands are shaking, and he nods his thanks. Kerry manages to smile as he gets into the driver’s seat beside Vik, settling into the small comfort of his own car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The drive to City Center is fast. It’s too early, the sun still behind the horizon, for people to be out and about on a Saturday. City Center itself is oddly devoid of any police presence, and any </span>
  <em>
    <span>people</span>
  </em>
  <span>, really — Kerry parks down the street from the back of Arasaka tower, where the stalagmites of its memorial from Johnny’s attack fifty years ago barely reach the top of the wall encasing them around the base of the tower itself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re a whole half block away, and still Kerry hesitates getting out of the car. He does, swallowing his anxiety, Vik and Misty following after him after a brief moment of hesitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s quiet, at least,” Vik says. Kerry nods, glancing around. There isn’t even any foot traffic. It’s as if the entire block around Arasaka Tower had been evacuated except for the stray car driving by every now and again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay together, then,” Kerry says. “We might cover more ground separately, but we can’t be certain he’ll be alone.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Or alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a traitorous part of himself says. Kerry stamps down that part and soldiers on, leading Vik and Misty down the clean sidewalk to the back of Arasaka Tower where the staff parking lot is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The parking structure itself is only three stories tall, with an open portion beside it for staff covered by solar panels that hardly soak up any sun while in the shadow of the tower. A few cars are scattered around it, some parked in tight groups and others far from each other, lone hulking forms sleeping under the buzzing halogen lamps standing above them. Kerry weaves between them, searching, while Vik and Misty fan out to search the other side of the wide concrete pad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry hesitates before approaching the back entrance of the tower, waiting to see if the camera placed above the double doors moves to notice him. But it doesn’t — in fact, the entire tower is silent. Places like this usually have wandering security, if not by humans then at least by bots, and today nothing patrols its perimeter. The camera doesn’t move, so Kerry darts forward, trying the door before it slides open as something moves behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a body, shielded for a few moments behind the frosted glass of the doors. It stumbles forward, clinging to the wall for support, slipping against it as he struggles to stay upright. The door slides all the way open and Kerry can barely get a word out before he’s snatching V against his chest, catching him before he can wobble and fall face-first onto the sidewalk just outside the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey, V, shh,” Kerry hushes as V groans and shields his eyes from the street lamps in Kerry’s chest. V clings to him, managing to keep his legs underneath him, but still he sways, and it's then Kerry notices blood soaking the side of his shirt and jacket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, okay,” Kerry says shakily. “No time for questions right now — Vik! Misty! Over here!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The scuff of shoes on concrete is the only answer he gets, and between one stumbling step and the next as V tries to stay standing, Misty and Vik are there. Misty has her hands around V’s other arm, helping steady him, while Vik lifts his jacket and shirt to inspect the obvious wound there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he announces. He looks up at Kerry, eyes hard. “Think you can carry him on your back?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. “Yeah, yeah — hold on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spins around, shifting to squat a bit as Vik helps V lean against his back. V’s hands shake as they slide around Kerry’s shoulders, gripping his own forearms as Vik directs. It takes a few minutes of harsh breathing before Vik says, “On three, V, and then you jump onto Kerry’s back. Can you do that for me, kiddo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry feels him nod against the nape of his neck. “Y-yeah. Gimme — gimme a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wait. V’s breathing is jagged, pained, interspersed with whimpers of pain. He’s clearly delirious, both from blood loss and whatever happened inside the tower. Kerry waits for as long as it takes — he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> wait as long as it takes. Eventually, V takes a deep breath, and then he’s jumping with the last remaining strength he has onto Kerry’s back. Kerry shifts his hands underneath V’s thighs, getting a good grip on him before he’s stepping forward, following Vik as the old ripper leads the way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be okay,” Misty is saying as they walk. “You did it, V — I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Head fuckin’ hurts,” V mumbles. His voice is muffled against Kerry’s bare shoulder — he tries not to find comfort in his hot breath, in how short and pained it is, but he can’t help it. V is here. He’s alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A part of Kerry has returned, battered and nearly stolen forever from him, but alive. Thank fucking God is he alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure,” Misty soothes. “But let’s get you back, okay? Did you get shot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno.” V grunts in pain when Kerry leans down again, letting V’s feet touch the ground before he releases his legs. V clings to him, clearly unsteady and unsure if he can stand on his own. Kerry throws a hand out against the side of his car to keep his balance as he waits V out — his thighs burn and V is fucking heavier than he looks, but he’ll wait this through, too. God, he would wait through anything, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?” Kerry asks after a long pause. V is breathing hard, and if Kerry lets his focus slip enough, he can feel blood soaking through his shirt and down his jeans. He makes a mental note to burn everything V’s blood ruins later — nothing of this day should exist beyond their own memories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V eventually nods. “Yeah,” he says. He doesn’t sound like he is, but Kerry takes it for the strength it is. “Yeah, I’m okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna get you in the car and put some pressure on your side, V,” Vik says gently. “Try and not fight me, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry feels V nod against him again. Together, Vik and Kerry get V into the back of the car, Vik climbing in first to take V’s weight while Kerry helps steady him with hands on his hips. V slips on the leather seats twice, his jeans black with blood and his hands shiny with it, bright and red and still so wet. So many questions clog Kerry’s throat, press against his teeth begging and screaming to be released — but he doesn’t. He watches as Vik leans V back against the bench, pillowing his head in Misty’s lap, balling up his own shirt he’s already shed and pressing it with determined force against V’s side. They all flinch at V’s grunt of pain, but they soldier on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s their turn to take on this burden, now. V isn’t alone, hasn’t ever been. He can rest, let familiar hands take the wheel for a change. Kerry lets that comfort drive him as he takes them back to Vik’s clinic instead of the questions, the wonderings, the answers left unsaid back in that tower of devils.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik directs Kerry down into a tunnel that opens up into a garage beside Vik’s clinic, hidden and gated and under no surveillance but Vik’s own. Kerry gets out and shoves the gate closed behind his car, then opens up the one in front of it to coast through into the other side of Vik’s clinic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A wall partitions off the garage itself from the rest of the clinic, and it clearly hasn’t seen much use in a while, but it’s a private space that Vik clearly thought would need to be used at some point. Kerry is also grateful for it — he didn’t want to leave his bloody car out on the street to possibly be picked out by authorities, nevermind have it be recognized as </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> car in a shady part of Watson. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gurney,” Vik says as he climbs out. Kerry follows the toss of his head and rolls the gurney over before stepping halfway into the back of the car and hooking his arms under V’s, helping lift him out as Vik carries his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty runs into the clinic itself, saying, “I’ll get things ready!” as she goes. Her skirt is spotted with blood, too, as are her hands. Kerry tries not to think about it as he helps Vik lay V out on the gurney and then rolls him after Misty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not so bad,” Vik says again, echoing what he said before. Misty is laying out surgical tools, gauze, a transfusion pole with a bag of blood already hanging from it. Vik drops the bag he’d taken with him and Kerry sees he’s dug through it and patched V however he could in the car, as wordlessly and efficiently as he could have. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it a gunshot?” Kerry asks. He rolls V to where Vik indicates — further into the clinic than the ripper chair, hidden behind a sheer curtain on a rolling bar that Misty tugs into place to partition the room again. Kerry allows himself to be gently pushed aside as Vik nods his agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gun shot, various cuts and scrapes,” Vik says. V groans as Vik takes his head in his hands and gently turns it to reveal the chipset port on the side of his head. “And this...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The relic,” Kerry says unsteadily. He reaches out, taking V’s hand. “V — did you do it? Is he gone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V rolls his eyes around the room, blinking against the bright lights Vik flicks on above him. He clearly doesn’t know where he is, especially through the pain and blood loss. He makes a questioning noise and nothing more — Vik gently moves Kerry back, his hands kind and warm as he places them on Kerry’s shoulders and pushes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me get him fixed,” Vik says. His expression is hurt, worried. Kerry nods wordlessly, swallowing his own heartache. Vik smiles at the easy acquiescence, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Wait with Misty. I’ll get him back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry can’t find it in him to push back. He follows Misty’s gentle hands as she leads him to a long sink basin, turning one if the faucets wordlessly and begins washing her hands. He takes her cue and does so as well, noticing only then the blood on his shirt again, soaking through the wet fabric and sticking to his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls it off without thinking, without caring, with a hiss of fury and hurt. He balls it up and throws it as hard as he can into the sink basin, letting it soak in the hot water pouring from the spigot. The water runs red as it slides down into the drain, as does his hands and his arms — his skin itches with it as he scrubs and scrubs. It isn’t until Misty takes his hands and gentles them, releases the tension with a kind press of her own that he realises he’s only hurting rather than soothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her smile is just as kind as she takes a warm, wet rag and wipes the blood from his side. Her smile is just as soothing as she finds an old tank of Vik’s for him to borrow and takes the gun from his waistband before he can hide it again underneath the shirt hem as he tugs it over his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is everything Kerry wouldn’t expect to find in a friend of V’s; but then again, he has a father like Vik. Kerry wouldn’t lump himself together with kind souls like the two of them, but the thought that he could, that he is just as worthy as them to stand beside V — it helps his hands stop shaking and his chest loosen just enough from the lump of fear settling right where his heart should be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Misty says quietly. “Let Vik work. He’ll call if he needs us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. It takes all he has to step out of the clinic and follow her into an elevator once they reach the alley, but he does it. He doesn’t question her when she leads him to a spot on the roof where her and Vik obviously spend their free time: a place with hanging string lights and a couple chairs surrounding a low table littered with glasses and pizza boxes. She waves her hand and the radio turns on, low and unobtrusive. No sirens ring out this high up, no shots of gunfire or commercials or news stories — just the quiet of the city waking up and Kerry’s heartbeat in his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits beside Misty with his phone in his hand, searching for news on an attack on Arasaka to occupy his time. Misty lets him despite her look of disapproval — she appears to be much more inclined to let things happen on their own. But Kerry can’t let it lie, not now, not that it’s become so obvious V had done all this himself. Storming a well-guarded tower didn’t go as smoothly as this, especially Johnny possibly leading the charge. V should be dead. V should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he finds nothing. Nothing on Arasaka, nothing on an attack or massacre there. Nothing about a lone merc wandering in, gun in hand, and nothing about anyone walking out again. It isn’t a public building, so it’s not like anyone could just walk in anyway, but there’s just... nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s as if the last few hours were a bad dream. V had walked in and walked out, beat to hell and possibly fucked much more in the head than before,  but it’s nearly like he’d just gotten into a bar fight instead of waged war against one of the biggest corporations to ever exist. V was a ghost, and now they had to make sure he stayed that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After what feels like days, but couldn’t have been longer than a few hours, Vik appears at the top of the elevator. His hands are on his hips, and he looks far more tired than he should, but when Misty and Kerry get up to meet him, he’s smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s fine,” Vik says shakily. His hands are clean, thankfully, as he reaches up to wipe his eyes with the heels of his palms. “He’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can we —?” Kerry starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, c'mon.” Vik is nodding. “He’s awake. Oh, Jesus —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chokes up, then turns away to lead them back to the elevator. Kerry and Misty follow after him, Kerry feeling like he’s moving underwater. This is too much, too real, and he doesn’t feel like he can breathe until he’s stumbling down the stairs into Vik’s clinic and sees V sitting up on the gurney. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s head snaps up as they enter, his smile a little wobbly. “Vik, I know you said not to sit up, but I really feel fine —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik makes a pained, choked sound, one clearly borne from trying to contain a sob. In four long strides, Vik has V enveloped against his chest, cradling V as gently as he can while still squeezing him tight. V doesn’t miss a beat in wrapping his arms around Vik’s middle, embracing him for all that he is. Kerry and Misty come in and surround them, their wide, relieved smiles mirrored between each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?” Vik is saying into V’s short hair. His fingers curl into V’s nape, his shoulders, the bandages wrapped around his head. He’s clinging to V like he might disappear, tears tracking down his cheeks in silent streaks. “Don’t ever do something so stupid — so dangerous again. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods into Vik’s shirt. Kerry can’t see his face, but he knows he’s crying by the sound of his voice. “It’s gone. He’s gone. I did it, Vik, I did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” Vik leans back just enough to press a hard kiss to V’s forehead. “Never again, kiddo. You understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Never again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of V’s hands reaches out, tugging Kerry close, and then he’s also grabbing for Misty too. Vik curls his arms around the three of them, wide and long as they are, as V’s hand fists in the back of Kerry’s shirt. His face turns into Kerry’s chest, hiding as much as he is seeking comfort — Kerry leans down as much as he can and kisses V’s hair, the last shred of tension holding his heart hostage finally dissipating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M sorry he’s gone,” V says finally. Weak, apologetic — it rends Kerry into pieces all over again. “Sorry he’s gone, Ker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. He manages to get an arm around V as Vik and Misty take a step back, giving them room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t give a fuck about Johnny,” Kerry says. “Didn’t give a fuck when he first showed up and don’t give a fuck now. You, V. You are all that matters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He carefully cradles V’s head, tilting it back enough to see his face. V’s cheeks are scratched up and his nose is broken, and when Kerry moves his face to the side, Vik’s hands come around to cradle V’s nape with a soft, “Careful, I just got him stitched up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry sees what he means when he finally gets a look at the port the relic had been slotted into. It wasn’t in good shape before, shot to hell already from Dex’s (un)lucky attempt on V’s life. Now it’s gone, removed entirely along with the biochip, the slit where it’d been now sewn together with a neat strip of translucent butterfly stitches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right here,” Vik says. He holds out his palm, and stretching the length of it is a red and black chip. It’s so innocuous, so unassuming, but in that chip had been Johnny Silverhand. All that he was and had been — on this little piece of metal and plastic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did it hurt?” Kerry asks quietly. V looks up at him properly, his eyes wet but clear. V hasn’t looked so himself in so long now — it helps Kerry take in a deep breath as V shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alt did it without hurting either of us. She took me out, untangled Johnny, and stuck me back in. I... I feel so much better, guys. I feel like myself again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The chip did a lot of neural rewriting, but the inflammation is going down,” Vik says. “Whatever Alt did, whatever you found there in Arasaka — she did it. You did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V turns hopeful eyes on Vik. “Am I doing okay? Am I... still gonna die?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik’s smile is wide, toothy and infectious as he shakes his head. “Nah, kiddo. The damage is pretty extensive, and you’re going to need constant care for the next couple months, but... you’re alright. You’re gonna be okay, V.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V relaxes underneath Kerry’s hands all at once with a big sigh. His forehead thumps against Kerry’s sternum, his fingers coming up to curl into his shirt again. Kerry hugs him tight, resting his cheek on top of V’s head. He’s alright. He’ll live. He’s here. He’s okay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When V’s blood transfusion is finished and Vik is confident V can walk, they help him up the stairs and into the apartment above Misty’s shop. It’s a studio, much like V’s place, and it’s apparent Misty lives here alone. While Vik bustles back downstairs to grab medical equipment and medication, Misty urges V onto her bed with gentle hands, her smile ever present as V tries to fight her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” he says, shaking his head. Kerry tightens his arm around him as he begins to sway again at the motion. “Misty, this is your place —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And for right now, it’s yours,” Misty says kindly. “You need to sleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just listen to her, will you?” Kerry sighs. “You got shot, for fuck’s sake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At this, V seems to think better of arguing. He reluctantly turns in Kerry’s arms so he’s facing him, allowing him to work on getting his jeans down his hips with gentle hands. Misty smiles at Kerry over V’s shoulder, a little victory shared just between the two of them that Kerry can’t help but return. He likes her, a lot. She’s clearly a good friend that loves V a lot — he’s glad he has her now more than ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Careful, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kerry murmurs as V sways again. V’s hands grip Kerry’s shoulders tightly as Kerry kneels to untie his sneakers, managing only just to not fall over. Kerry finishes tugging his jeans off and straightens again, keeping his hands on V the whole way up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s expression is tight, his eyes screwed shut. He looks like he’s about to puke and pass out all at once. “The meds are starting to kick in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see that,” Kerry says. “Think you can lay back? Or do you need me to help you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Room’s spinnin’ even with my eyes closed, Ker,” V says unsteadily. “Gimme — gimme a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V clings to him as they wait. Misty has been busy in the bathroom, no doubt clearing space to get V into the shower later when he’s ready to, and it’s then she comes out to hover beside V, her hands wringing themselves in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I help?” she asks quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s face is pressed into Kerry’s neck, so instead of nodding he reaches for her hands. “Gonna lower him down,” he says. “Shit’s finally knocking him out, so we gotta go slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She follows where he guides her, moving to the side so they both have a firm but gentle hold on V’s arms. “I got him,” she says. “Tell me when.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry swallows thickly. V is swaying more and more, looking about ready to crumple. “Now — before he hits his head on something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V is not a light man, and it takes both of them with their combined strength not to drop him as his knees finally give out as they’re trying to lower him down. He cries out, which breaks Kerry’s heart that little bit more — Misty’s too, judging by the crumpled look of pain on her face — but they manage to get him down without worsening the wounds Vik took so much time to patch up. When V is finally on his back, Kerry sits on the side of the bed beside Misty, neither of them unable to take their eyes off him as V sleeps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik returns then with a transfusion pole and a box of meds under his arm, looking somewhere between cross and relieved. When he sees V laying down, a smile cracks on his face, amusement coloring his cheeks with a short laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finally knocked his ass out, huh?” he says. “Adrenaline probably kept him going this whole time. He’s always fought the stuff that dragged him under.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Surprised he lasted so long,” Kerry says. He reaches out, pushing some stray hair off V’s forehead. He looks so peaceful now that he’s asleep, so much more like himself. Kerry leans down and kisses his cheek, his heart overfull with all that he can’t say just yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik sets the pole down beside Misty’s bed before settling at the end of it. His expression is kind when Kerry sits up again, glancing between the three of them with a calm that only comes after shit like this finally comes to an end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got more for when he wakes up,” Vik says quietly. He hands the box of meds to Misty, who takes it when a gentle nod. “I’m gonna go looking for more, because this kid needs to stay doped up for a while and he’s already used what I had. Misty knows the doses, so just stay with him? Both of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t think I could leave, honestly,” Kerry chuckles. He shares a smile with Misty. “If that’s alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “Of course. But you should shower. V wouldn’t want his blood to ruin your clothes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry glances down at himself. Vik’s shirt was a little big on him, draping down over his blood-stiff jeans. He grimaces and stands, his stomach suddenly flipping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prolly not a bad idea,” he sighs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then I’ll be back soon,” Vik says, standing. “Gonna keep my ear to the ground, listen for any chatter about Arasaka. Don’t go anywhere, and make sure V gets his —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vik,” Misty says gently. She rests her hands on his arm, patting him gently. “We got this. He’ll be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik nods. He looks more like he’s trying to convince himself, but eventually he finally unsticks his feet from the floor and bends over V’s sleeping form. He kisses his hair, then straightens, carefully keeping his face turned away from Kerry and Misty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you in a bit, kiddo,” he says. Then he hurries out the door like Hell was nipping at his heels — Kerry turns a raised brow in Misty, who simply smiles serenely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He worries in his own way,” she says. “We all do. Now shoo — I’ll find something for you to wear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry doesn’t fight her. He’s so exhausted suddenly, so tired from waiting all night on top of the emotional toll of... all of this. It takes all he has left to shed his bloody clothes and stumble into the shower before it all finally hits him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V is alive. He did something so monumentally fucking idiotic and managed to survive. He’d been dying not twelve hours before but now — now he was —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry feels light with how large his heart expands in his chest. He bows his head under the hot spray of water crashing down on him and just breathes through it, anxieties and stress washing off him in pink-tinged rivulets down the drain alongside V’s blood. That feeling will never leave him, having V bleed down his back, but now it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t suffocate him. V is here. He’s alive. He’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking Christ,” Kerry chokes out. He’s crying, he realizes. He doesn’t remember when the tears started coming down. “Holy fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit </span>
  </em>
  <span>—“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He scrubs his face with the honey-smelling soap Misty has on a shelf to keep the sobs at bay. From head to toe he washes away the blood and sweat of the previous night, only stepping out once he’s sure the feeling of having it coat his skin is gone for good.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then he feels like he did the moment he laid his eyes on V that first weird fucking night they met. Light, like something has finally slid into place, completing him in a way he hasn’t been in a long time. Starstruck, he’d been back then. A stranger had just broken into his home and started strumming achingly familiar tunes in a way no one had in fifty years, and still he’d been starstruck. V was enchanting even under the spell of Johnny’s poisonous hands, and still Kerry had fallen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like now. All over again, it was like a fresh start. V was alive. He’d live. No longer was the clock ticking down to some impossible, unavoidable end. No longer did Kerry count the hours until he’d probably never see V again, until his world came crashing down around his ears in a great cacophony of noise and sound, deafening to anything but V’s name, his face, his breathless smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No more. No more clocks, no more resting time bombs. He steps into the jeans (a size too small and too tall — must be V’s) and slips on the soft tee shirt (also V’s, the shoulders too wide for Kerry’s) that Misty left for him. Surrounded by his clothes, his scent, gunmetal and cheap denim —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returns to V and Misty after managing to swallow his bursting heart. Misty is sat in a comfy-looking loveseat a shade of purple that matches her sweater, and it’s then Kerry takes in her little apartment for the first time since their trek up the stairs not a half hour earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just as funky as her shop below them, though that’s to be expected he supposes. Recessed shelves line the wall beside and around the bed V is laying in, packed with books and crystals and hanging plants with drooping, healthy leaves longer than Kerry is tall. An entertainment center sits across from the bed against the wall, similarly surrounded by hanging photos and animal skulls and dreamcatchers. Incense burns on the short kitchen counter in the corner, and when Kerry steps out, immediately he feels... oddly relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposes it’s just Misty, too. She has a calming presence that’s so outside what he’s used to, it’s no wonder she and V get along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel any better?” Misty asks quietly. She gets up and moves to a teapot sitting on a hotplate on the kitchen counter, wordlessly pouring them both a cup that he gratefully takes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. He wraps his hands around the cup, letting the heat seep into his palms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do,” he says. “Feel a lot more like myself, funnily enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we all do.” She sinks back into the loveseat, curling her long legs underneath herself. “Having V back, and having him alive is... very relieving.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can say that again,” he sighs. He sits very carefully on the edge of her bed, angling himself so he can see her but still reach out to touch V. When his fingertips brush V’s stubbled jaw, something in him finally relaxes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V is here. He’s alive. He’ll be alright. Fuck, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty tilts her head, catching his eye. She smiles when he turns to her, something small and truly grateful. “I’m really glad he has you, y’know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I — well,” Kerry starts. It’s like getting Vik’s blessing all over again — he was being accepted. He was allowed to be here because he’d given them no other choice before, but now he was being asked to stay. The feeling makes him warm, and for a moment he has a hard time responding. “Well, I... would it be lame to say I love him, and that’s the only reason why I’m here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty giggles a bit. “Would it be the truth?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then no. I’m here because I love him, too. No jobs, no paychecks, just... just V.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. He knows what she means. The guillotine hanging over him was gone, but still that spark drawing him to V hasn’t blown out. Being near him was just as electric as it had been before when he was dying, and to feel so attracted even now — to feel like he can’t breathe without knowing V does the same is just — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relieving. He loves V. With every singing fiber of his body and soul, he loves him. There was nowhere he’d rather be than right here, right now, waiting for the next day, and the one after that, and the one after that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t counting down to zero, now. The count had now gone up one day, and now it’d keep going up. They had all the time in the world now. All the time in the world to just…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” Misty says quietly. She rises from her seat, moving to slide next to Kerry. She gently takes the cup he hasn’t sipped from and sets it aside. “Why don’t you get some rest?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head. He’s not sure he could — he needs to see V, needs to watch him breathe and sleep. Misty frowns but he doesn’t let her start reprimanding him, having learned already that she’s very much the mom friend to V despite their similar ages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sleep first,” he says. “I don’t think I can right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty’s sighs. She pats Kerry’s shoulder then gets up, setting aside her own cup as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me know when Vik gets back,” she says. “Knowing him, he won’t sleep either, so I’d like to take over V’s meds for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs a laugh. “Yeah. I can do that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you. Feel free to make something else to drink. You’ve been up all night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I promise to, Misty,” Kerry laughs. “Now lay down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She does after trotting downstairs and locking up her shop and Vik’s clinic. She’s careful of jostling V, but V has been knocked out for the better part of an hour now, and Kerry suspects he won’t wake for anything for a while. He doesn’t even flinch when Misty and Kerry gently move him to one side of the bed so she can lay down, another small blessing on this truly fucked up day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She falls asleep quickly curled up on her side, bundled up under soft fleece blankets. Kerry gently wraps V in a blanket too, smoothing his fingers through V’s hair, separating strands tacky with dried blood and sweat. He’ll have to get V into the shower soon too, but that can wait. They have time, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wastes a few hours surfing the net looking for information on an attack on Arasaka. He flips on the news to a low volume and keeps that going throughout the afternoon, half listening to the drone of the bored newscasters and to the quiet street below them. No one comes thundering up the stairs, bristling with guns and blades and grenades — the building doesn’t get bombed from orbit, either. Hours pass and Kerry grows tired of searching for something that never comes, so he turns everything off and sinks back into the loveseat, closing his eyes and listening to V and Misty breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry jerks awake when he hears the door hiss open and shut some time later. It’s Vik, a duffel hanging from one shoulder and looking freshly showered. He waves when he notices Kerry is awake, setting aside his duffel gently before kneeling down to dig around in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t wake up I take it?” Vik whispers. He glances at V and Misty — Kerry shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slept the whole morning,” Kerry murmurs. “I searched for any info on what’s going on, but...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s Vik’s turn to shake his head. “Dead silence up top. The public has no idea for now, but when I asked around, a lot of the fixers are nervous about something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can ask V when he’s awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Vik says. He stands, a set of clothes in his hands. “Here, let's get him dressed. I’m sure he’d appreciate some pants when he wakes up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry stands, moving to V’s side of the bed as Vik gently shakes Misty awake. He helps her up, and together they shift V a bit further up the bed so he’s propped up on the pillows. Vik carefully replaces V’s bandages, redressing his wounds with Misty’s steady help beside him while Kerry takes over redressing V. It’s harder to get V’s legs through the holes in the clean briefs with him prone, but Kerry manages, and then pulls up a soft grey pair of joggers and socks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No shirt for now,” Vik says softly. “I need to clean the gunshot about every four hours until it stops bleeding on its own.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. “Want him on his side?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Need to check his chipset.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They carefully roll V onto his side. Kerry sits beside him after that, taking V’s hands in his own, while Misty cleans up around them in a quiet bustle of discarded medical supplies and ruined clothes going into the standing washer in the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s then while Vik is gently cleaning scrapes and superficial cuts on V’s face that those silver-ringed grey eyes blink open. They roll around the room, taking in Vik leaning over him and the slowly spinning ceiling fan above him before closing again, his chest rising with a deep breath that turns into a groan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, kiddo,” Vik says softly. “Feel okay? Anything hurt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ev’rything,” V croaks. “Th’fuck happened to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A lot, now c’mon, roll onto your back for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s face scrunches up as he does. Kerry can’t help but laugh, leaning down to cover it up with a kiss against V’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a minute, and Vik’ll get you something for the pain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kerry says. “Y’gotta let him work, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hurts,” V groans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, baby. Come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Vik help V settle further up the bed again, propped up gently so he can see the room but still lay on his back. Vik finishes wiping away the old liquid stitches over the chipset port that had been removed and then brings out a hypo from the box of meds they brought in earlier, injecting it much to V’s near-instant relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you go, kiddo,” Vik says. “Everything is looking good so far.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” V says, his throat still rough. “How long’ve I been out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Couple hours,” Kerry says. “We found you earlier this morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feel like I was hit by a fucking train.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You basically were,” Vik says. He sits back, apparently satisfied with his work, and fixes a very stern look on V that has Kerry and Misty both glancing at each other. “Now talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V grimaces. He very much doesn’t want to, Kerry can tell, but it must be too much to hold in. He glances between all three of them — Vik, Misty, then Kerry — before shifting a bit and looking down at his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Went in alone,” he murmurs. “Just... just me an’ Johnny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We know that,” Kerry says. “But we need to know what happened. What the fuck happened to your </span>
  <em>
    <span>head</span>
  </em>
  <span>, V.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V shakes his head. “I don’t — it was... it was fuckin’ weird. I fought all the way down to the labs below the tower, and when I got there, I slotted in Alt. Johnny’s girlfriend. She’s an AI, she’s been behind the Blackwall ever since Johnny stormed Arasaka the first time, and after she was in the tower, she just... killed</span>
  <em>
    <span> everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. After that, she had to hold all the doors closed behind me so nothing followed, so she couldn’t help when I fought Smasher —“ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Adam Smasher?” Vik exclaims. “You fought Adam Smasher alone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alt couldn’t help,” V says lamely. “Arasaka ‘runners were bombarding her. So I killed him — which was fucking hard — and crawled my broken ass to Mikoshi. When I jacked in, Alt and Johnny were there already. Alt had separated us before I even realized it. And then...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, long and shaky. Tears bead at the corners of his eyes and he wipes them away with unsteady hands, hiding behind them briefly before looking back up at Kerry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... and then he told me to keep fighting, and sent me back. He... I’m so fucking sorry, Ker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry blinks. Then he frowns and shakes his head, tugging V’s hands into his lap again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you,” Kerry says sternly. “I don’t give a shit. I care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and if it means shredding the ghost of a guy that’s been dead for fifty fucking years, then by all means.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty winds her arms around V’s shoulders, drawing him close to her side as he cries. “I know he meant a lot to you,” she says softly. “It’s okay to be upset. But you’re alive, V, and that’s what matters.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nods, sniffling wetly. It breaks something inside Kerry that he thought had already started to heal, leaving him feeling unsteady. V had grown to care about Johnny, in a weird way — he’d grown accustomed to having him around even as his construct was destroying him. For months, Johnny’s ghost had been riding shotgun to V’s psyche, always there, always a strange comfort to V’s frantic search for a way to separate them. While things got worse, V wasn’t ever truly alone, and now —</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t apologizing to Kerry, not really; he wasn’t apologizing because he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was apologizing because </span>
  <em>
    <span>V </span>
  </em>
  <span>was hurting, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>V </span>
  </em>
  <span>missed Johnny, because </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>had to give up what had become a part of himself to survive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry wouldn’t want to carry around Johnny Fucking Silverhand in his own fucking head in a million years, but he can’t deny what he meant to V. That what Johnny had become was more than what he had been, and who was he to tell V it didn’t matter?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, V,” Kerry says quietly. V looks up, eyes wet and red-rimmed — fuck, does he hate it when V looks like that. Kerry bites his tongue and soldiers on. “I know you cared about Johnny. I didn’t mean to belittle that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V laughs shortly, wiping at his face. “‘S alright. I don’t think he’d want me cryin’ about him anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, maybe not, but here,” Vik says. V and Kerry both turn to look at him as the ripper holds out a familiar black chip in the palm of his hand. “It’s not the same as the necklace I gave you, but... I think you should have it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s expression is unreadable as he reaches out to take the relic. Kerry remembers seeing it earlier in the morning, remembers it just as it is now: fried and warped far beyond being usable anymore. All that Johnny had been had resided on that chip not twenty-four hours before, and now V takes it with a reverence borne from familiarity and heartbreak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks,” V manages after a long few minutes spent simply holding the chip in his hand. He nods, something settling behind his eyes like fire-forged steel, and then he hands it back to Vik with that same familiar kindness stoking the flames. “Get rid of it. No one should know how this works, not even us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik nods and takes the relic. “Sure thing. Just... are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V says. “Whatever he was, it’s not there anymore. I said goodbye in Mikoshi. It’ll be okay.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik nods again. He doesn’t look so convinced — and honestly, Kerry isn’t either — but none of them have the strength to argue anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s get you some meds, then,” Vik continues, standing up. “You’re gonna need the rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we all do,” Misty says. She fixes a look on Vik that he obeys without question, his hands raising in surrender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, fine,” Vik laughs. “But let me at least —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Misty says with a growing smile. She snatches the box of meds and shoves him back towards the couch with a hand on his chest, looking every bit the mother hen Kerry knew she was. “Sleep, Vik. You’re an old man. You need it after spending all night awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vik collapses into the couch. He shares a look with Kerry that he returns just as swiftly — being bullied into compliance by Misty seemed to be a shared experience of theirs now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now you know how I felt this morning,” Kerry chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least you got her to listen,” Vik sighs. “But you’re right. You got it from here, Misty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty curtsies in her little leather skirt. “Why thank you. Now V, please scooch — Kerry needs to rest, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V’s smile is toothy as he does what he’s told, albeit slowly and with a lot of complaining. The pain meds Vik gave him earlier help, but he’s still stiff and woozy and very much uncoordinated. Kerry manages to slip in beside him underneath the blankets, careful not to brush the gunshot wound or anything else that may be sore. V cuddles up to him as much as he’s able, and when they’re both comfortable, Misty leans over and gives V two hypos that immediately have his eyelids drooping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next couple days are filled with more tests and scans than Kerry has ever seen done on a person, but then again, V was a special case always. V can walk with little difficulty by the second day, and the exercise serves him well going up and down the stairs to Vik’s clinic even as he complains about it. However, Kerry is always there beside him, and that settles him some even as it becomes obvious V just wants to get up and move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t imagine what it must be like to be Night City’s most formidable solo merc one day and then a drugged up invalid the next. V needs the rest, he knows that, but that restlessness inside him still doesn’t ease even between bouts of pain meds. Kerry would feel bad if it didn’t make him laugh every time V pulled a sour face at being told to lay down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I needta </span>
  <em>
    <span>move,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ker,” he says the third morning. He’s listless, he always is, but now Kerry is really starting to feel bad about it. “Please, just let me take a walk or somethin’ — I dunno, somethin’!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Vik is downstairs studyin’ your noggin, and Misty went out to get lunch,” Kerry says. He pitches his tone low, and immediately V’s head whips around to face him. His smile is small, conspiratorial — Kerry barely needs to crook a finger before they’re stumbling into the shower, clothes left in a haphazard puddle just outside it in their haste to undress each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V isn’t so restless after that. He still sleeps, still takes Vik’s meds with little complaint, but when he wakes after spending ten hours underneath their influence, he only needs to tip his head in askance before Kerry is herding him against the shower wall and dropping to his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the fourth day, Vik announces V is well enough to move him to Kerry’s place to get him out of Misty’s. Vik assures Kerry he doesn’t mind making the forty-five minute drive out to North Oak — he’d rather V be out of the way and safe behind Kerry’s guarded walls than in a back alley clinic where he only had Misty and Vik to protect him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll visit every day,” Misty says the day they drop off the last of V’s things. She sets down his cat — a pretty sphinx that curls around her leg once he’s out of her hands — and wraps her arms around Kerry, squeezing him tight. In such a short time she’s become a good friend to him; Kerry couldn’t imagine his life without her steady presence, now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You guys know the code to the gate and the door,” Kerry says, squeezing her back. “Anytime, you’re welcome. Just come in when you can.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Misty nods. She kisses his cheek, then moves on to fussing over V. “Now you need to take it easy, mister. Don’t give Kerry a hard time, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V scoffs a laugh, though Kerry and Vik chuckle too. “Trust me, he’s the one more likely to go blow something up than I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two times,” Kerry says. “Two times I take you out —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three’s a pattern,” Vik laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Two times</span>
  </em>
  <span> —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll take it easy, I promise,” V says quickly. He hugs Misty back, returning the kiss she graces him with. “No hard exercise, no shooting, no running around rooftops. I think I can manage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And medicine twice a day,” Vik reminds. “Your neural pathways need to rebuild themselves, and that’s what the pills and injections are for. I’ll be in for therapy every day to strengthen them as they grow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V nods. This is a tired, circuitous argument that they’ve had before, but Vik worries, so V takes it in stride all the same. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V hugs Vik last, sinking into the familiar embrace with a sigh. Vik squeezes him tight, still careful of his healing gunshot, but unable to let him go for a while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V is similarly unable to let him go until the very last moment. Misty and Vik wave their goodbyes, promising to see them tomorrow, and it isn’t until their car disappears behind the wall circling Kerry’s villa that V finally turns back inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling alright?” Kerry asks quietly. V reaches out and Kerry takes his hand, tugging V against him with a gentle kiss to follow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feeling... different,” V says against his lips. He looks around the villa, slow and with purpose like he was taking it all in. His eyes never stick to one place like they did when Johnny was around, never hover right over Kerry’s shoulder where his ghost had been. They circle, absorbing, before finally falling onto Kerry again, warm and tired and so very V. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nudges him up the stairs to their bedroom, smiling as V’s cat leads the way before them. “Good different? Bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just weird, not having Johnny kicking it somewhere,” V says. “Usually he’d have something stupid to say, but... it’s all quiet. Spent months with him, going fucking crazy, and...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V stops at the edge of their bed. He sleeps most days, catching up on the weeks he spent not sleeping. Kerry is happy enough to lie around with him, composing while V gets the rest he deserves. V sits down, looking up at Kerry apologetically — Kerry is shaking his head before V can get the words out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m at peace with that particular shadow, V,” Kerry says. “Seriously. I don’t want you to carry that cross for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know what he meant to you —“ V starts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you know what you mean to me,” Kerry interrupts. He sits next to V and gently takes his face in his hands, making it so V can’t look away. The look on his face must say as much, must reveal how broken his heart must be, because V is nodding before he can speak. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay. I won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just you, V.” Kerry lets him lay back, lets him hide in the blankets. Kerry follows after him, gathering V against him as tightly as he can.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kisses any part of V he can — his cheek, his jaw, the shapely slope of his neck to his shoulder. Shirts are hard to get in and out of most days because of the bullet wound, so Kerry is free to move down his collarbone unhindered until he reaches the thump of V’s heart underneath his sternum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just me,” V murmurs. His fingers curl against Kerry’s nape — he follows V’s hands and kisses back up to his lips, kissing the smile there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ikaw lang, aking kaluluwa</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Kerry says softly. “No one else. Just you and me, V.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vanya,” V says after a short pause. Kerry leans back, blinking — his translator doesn’t pick up on the word, and it must show on his face because V’s smile is so bright, so shy. “My name,” he laughs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y-you don’t gotta tell me,” Kerry says quickly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His name</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span> V just told me his name</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “I know this is a personal thing — I mean, Vik is practically your dad and he still calls you V —“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can still call me V,” V says. He soothes a hand up Kerry’s spine, but the anxiety is still there in the tightness of his eyes. “I kinda prefer it, actually, but — I want you to know, Ker. Vik and Misty know, but I need you to know, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry nods. His heart is overfull, suddenly, so much and too much but not enough, either. It’s just a name, just a thing V had chosen so long ago when he was just a streetrat finding his place in the world. It’s just a name. A thing to call him when the darkness is too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it’s V’s name. One he doesn’t go by, one he’s insisting people don’t use. V’s name, something so hidden and personal, a fold in an origami crane still coming into its own, still a work in progress by mangled, bloody hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry presses every worry and anxiety against his teeth and shoves them back behind the shards of his broken heart, no matter how much it hurts to do it. “Vanya,” he says finally. Not V, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>mahal</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Vanya,” and V smiles, however small, and shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like V more,” he says finally. “Like hearing you say it, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His cheeks are pink. Kerry laughs, suddenly aware that this is probably the first time V has been so open, so real, with anyone. V hides his face in Kerry’s neck, clinging to him, as his cat hops up and curls against their legs, purring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just tell me what to use,” Kerry says against V’s skin. V has settled, though he’s still awake. Kerry isn’t sure he’ll be able to sleep if he tried, but he’ll be here when V does. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V,” V says. “Vanya — sometimes. Not in front of others, though. Please.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Of course. I won’t endanger your scary merc reputation, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V snorts. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kerry hums. “Don’t worry about a thing. Won’t hurt you. Don’t —“ Kerry takes a deep breath, one that shudders and hurts to inhale. “Don’t want to lose you, V.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>V tightens his arms around him. They don’t speak, at least not with words. Hands and lips, gentle breath and hums and whispers, but that’s all. V eventually falls asleep, sinking into the mattress with an exhale that is long and tired. No Johnny to follow him down, no worry of death and hell and brimstone — no promise that if he doesn’t run himself ragged, he won’t see tomorrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just this. Just rest. Just a home to himself, some time and love that’s all his own. His weapons sit in foam-filled crates downstairs and his cars sit in a neat, pretty line out in Kerry’s driveway, but this — the luxury of simply sleeping because his body demands it of him — </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s all that Kerry could ask for. More than he could have hoped for. He’d gone into this thinking his input would die in a couple weeks, doomed to a short existence filled with as much love and support Kerry could stuff into it, and now... </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>aand part three! i have a part 4 in the works, but its very rough and might take me a week or two to work out. thank you for the comments and kudos so far, i really appreciate it :)</p><p>this chapter ups the rating, and i will also say again V is trans. there is semi-explicit sex in this, but it can be skipped if you so choose.</p><p>otherwise, hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When they first met, V looked... good.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Healthy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he should say — because “good” wasn't a descriptive enough adjective to use for a man who near-instantly caught Kerry's attention. It wasn't even V at first when they met, not really, and it would take until they met again properly before Kerry understood the meaningful distinction between V and Johnny. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But V looked fine. He had a healthy complexion, and at that point, he hadn't deteriorated to swaying and stumbling when he walked. His eyes were a pretty dark grey with a ring of chromatic silver catching even the lowest of light, alluring like the red-green reflection of a predator's eyes in the dark. V was easy to laugh once he eased up around Kerry's manic late-life crisis, flowing easily with his schemes even as he tried to sway Kerry otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Kerry's grateful he eventually got through to him, grateful he became such a good friend, a good partner, in such a short time.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a lot of V he's grateful for. A lot of him he isn't sure he could survive without if he didn't get the relic out soon enough. A lot of him that Kerry realizes is all of him, in the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the two occasions Johnny took control, though, Kerry began to notice the herculean effort V had to put forth just to appear normal. At first, it was just weird seeing V's body perform actions that he was so used to seeing Johnny do: playing guitar, knocking back drinks, his mean smile and his nasty laugh. He spoke slower, his drawl so unnatural on V's silver tongue. Even the first few hours after they "met", Kerry knew something was wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Johnny assured him he and V got along, even if he didn't initially believe it. That V was as much a willing participant in their strange predicament as he could be with it forced on him as it was.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because when they finally did meet — V and Kerry — it became readily apparent how unlike he and Johnny were. V's smile was small and genuine, not mean or snarky, at least most of the time. He spoke rapidly, quick to rise to Kerry's teasing and easy to laugh when he was genuinely amused. Johnny moved his body too widely, too used to limbs that were longer than V's, but V moved just right. Just like himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny's fingers itched for a smoke every five minutes ("But I ain't gonna have one, because V doesn't smoke.") and he tapped his foot incessantly to whatever beat he found echoing through Night City's streets. He sat bow-legged and he reached for a lighter in the wrong pocket, because while Johnny always kept his in his back left, V kept his in his right hand jacket pocket. Johnny was a wealth of tics and mumblings and half-hummed tunes where V was quiet control, silent and still like a panther poised to strike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the major difference Kerry noticed almost instantly. V was a merc, but Johnny didn't move like one, didn't have the experience a killer like V had. V had an air about him like he knew where all the exits were and knew exactly where to strike and how if he was approached too closely, whereas Johnny was an air of over-proud confidence V had no problem exuding by simply being himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But afterwards, when the pills wore off and V was finally back in the driver's seat, Kerry saw how sick V was. How tired he looked, how exhausted he was to be back in a body that was quickly rejecting him more and more every day. Johnny was wrong, felt and looked wrong in a body not his own, but V looked like a two-day-old hangover because of it, and that's what made Kerry ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His reluctance to summon Johnny again is set in stone right after Samurai's performance at the Red Dirt bar, all because of an accident. He'd escaped the bar because facing Johnny, facing V, had made his heart leap up into his throat for the first time since he was twenty years old and hopelessly in way over his head. Kerry had only meant to run to his car and get the fuck out of there (because he was a goddamn coward and not even a man like V could cure him of that), but instead he’d stopped to smoke at the corner of the building, breathing in wet night air when the back door to the bar bangs open behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V stumbles out of the door, his hand over his mouth like he was going to puke. Instead, he kicks the door shut, the squeal of the rusted hinges masking the first rattling cough that scrapes up V's throat. The next, though, Kerry hears, and he presses himself against the brick of the back of the building to disguise himself as V leans on his hand against the door, breathing wet and ragged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both stood completely frozen for a few long, tense moments, V completely unaware of anyone around him, the least of all Kerry. His breathing had been much raspier than it’d been a few minutes before when Kerry was speaking to him inside the bar — Kerry moves to push off the wall to ask if he needs help when V starts speaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I know, Johnny,” V growls. “I know I ain’t got a lot of time, it’s just —“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He straights a bit and Kerry jumps back against the wall again — if he was speaking to Johnny, he didn’t want to interrupt, as disgustingly curious as he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V sighs. V bends over and spits, shakes his hand out, then turns partially, the angle affording Kerry a good look at his face. His chin was striped with red and when he grimaces, and his teeth were stained red as well. Shock nearly has Kerry moving towards him again, but then V was shoving away from the door completely, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s just get out of here,” he growls. “Needta fuckin’ sleep, now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V pauses, suddenly, and Kerry ducks behind a nearby dumpster to avoid his sweeping silver gaze as he whips around with his hand snapping up underneath his jacket. He stays where he is, waiting, but Kerry is too embarrassed to show himself. What would he say, anyway? Sorry, I didn’t mean to watch you hack up a lung while talking to the ghost of my dead best friend, won’t happen again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, V is apparently too wiped to care about whoever may be lurking behind the bar. He grumbles to himself something Kerry doesn’t hear, then hurries to his Quadra, disappearing under its glossy black wing as quickly as if he wasn’t there at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry knows, then, that under V’s cool exterior is a man scared to die. That while he allowed Johnny to come forward and lay to rest all of Kerry’s worst fears and shadows, it came at an immense cost to V’s well-being. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a performance that left Kerry reeling for days afterwards. What Kerry saw, what V allowed Kerry to see, was an act on unsteady stilts, ready to crash and burn to the ground with one single cough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven days after the fall of Arasaka, Kerry begins to really see a change in the sickly, walking corpse V had become, realizing only then that he hadn’t actually seen V healthy before. He’d seen him as healthy as he could be, sure, but the differences between this V and the one of a month and a half ago were on two opposite ends of the universe to each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It aches, seeing V hurt, no matter how safe he was. No matter how quickly his complexion warmed up, how beautiful his cheeks looked when he blushed, how thick and glossy his hair really was when his body wasn’t actively killing him. He was a handsome man before, but now he looked less like he came out the wrong end of a trainwreck and more like he’d eaten three square meals a day after sleeping a solid ten hours like he should (and did). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His skin was warm where Kerry touched and kissed him — his nails didn’t have a constant red crust underneath them from catching blood from coughing. He languidly sought contact because it felt good instead of simply staving off the inevitable body aches that would keep him up all hours of the night. The little wounds healed up, leaving tiny translucent scars in their wake that when Kerry kisses them, tickled V into laughing instead of making him sigh with the reminder that he’d survived one more miserable fucking day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet Kerry worried. V gained weight, slept more, ate more, had more energy to simply exist as a person instead of rushing off to the next gig, the next firefight, the next lonely soul in need of healing when his own needed it most. He missed Johnny terribly and more often than not hid the tears Kerry pretended not to see late at night when neither of them could find sleep. He was getting better, he was healing, and still Kerry felt like he was balancing on a tightrope above his worst and most vivid nightmares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because V didn’t stop coughing. He stopped bumping into things when he walked, but sometimes Kerry would feel a hand snatch out to grab his wrist to steady V’s unsteady balance. He blinked against harsh sunlight and still found taking a deep breath to be too painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V wasn’t dying, Vik insisted. He’s not dead, he’s not dying, I promise there’s nothing to worry about, but —</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Baby, please let me call Vik.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head once, hard. And then he coughs again, smacking his hand over his mouth as if he could swallow it back down. He hunches over, and Kerry knows before the first rattle of V’s gasp that this is going to be a painful one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns and kneels in front of V. Very gently, he takes V’s other hand in his own, carefully curling his other around V’s nape when he doubles over. Once, he’d tried to soothe V with hands between his shoulder blades, but that’d only made the pain worse. So now V hides his eyes in the crook of Kerry’s shoulder, riding out the fit with hot tears pressed into Kerry’s skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry turns his face and kisses V’s ear, rubbing circles into the soft skin at the base of his skull with his thumb. V gasps and tries to take in more than a mouthful of air, but it’ll be a few long moments until he can. In the meantime, Kerry will comfort the best he can, easing V’s burning pain with one sweet kiss after another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fit passes between one tense moment and the next. Kerry leans back on his heels, a silent question on his lips that V meets with a grimace and an outstretched palm streaked with blood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gonna let me call now?" Kerry asks quietly. He wipes blood from V's chin, the scrape of his thumb through V's stubble a small comfort through the rattle of his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," V manages through a scratchy throat. "I don't want to wake him up at this time of night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"V, he's your doctor," Kerry stresses. "He wants to help. Not telling him is as good as signing off on your niche —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't," V hisses. Kerry shuts up, his ire pressing against his teeth like so many unspoken lyrics kept hidden in his heart. V continues, his expression falling, exhaustion falling over him again like a heavy curtain at the end of a show. "Don't. I'm fine. He said I'd get worse before I got better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And coughing up brain matter is just something I'm supposed to roll with?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When it means seeing this shit through, yeah, it is, Kerry."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kerry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Kerry wasn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kerry</span>
  </em>
  <span> unless V was upset or so far gone he couldn't remember much but his name. He hates how V says his name like this, hates how livid he gets when his own health is in the cross hairs. He didn't have to fight anymore, there was nothing left to prove, so when he got like this it was hard to convince him that there was no hallowed ground left to walk in the wake of his victories now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, Kerry sighs through his heartache and takes V's hands in his own again. The blood, the tears, the long days spent sleeping and the foul moods brought by poor health — Kerry will be there for all of it even when V got like this. There was nowhere he'd rather be than here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I signed up for this," Kerry starts slowly. He looks up, makes eye contact with V. Keeps it even when V's eyes turn harsh and cold. He can be angry. That's alright. "I'm going to be here no matter what fucking happens. But that also means y'gotta let me help you, especially when it sucks. If I gotta call Vik so he can come and stop you from coughing up half your brain, I'm fucking going to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V glances away. It's late, he's tired, and Kerry knows he has to let V rest, but he waits him out, staying right where he is until V finally leans down and presses his face into the crook of Kerry's neck again. Hiding, but giving in. Upset, but asking for help nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's clean you up, then I'll call him," Kerry says quietly. "C'mon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even twenty pounds underweight, V is still a welcome heavy weight against Kerry's side as they go down the stairs together. He waves on the shower then helps V undress, holding onto him until he's safely under the warm spray with his hand wrapped around the bar in the wall Kerry had installed the week before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry leaves him to it to call Vik. It's fucking early — nearly three in the morning — but on the second ring Vik picks up, sounding groggy yet alert despite the hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"Everything alright?"</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vik asks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Nothin' too bad, I hope?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just coughing," Kerry says. "And the normal exhaustion, but he's still spitting blood, Vik. I know you said this'll continue for a while, so I'm not too worried, but he's still sounding like he did a few weeks ago."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>"I'll be over in a bit. Keep him awake if you can."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. "Sure thing. Kid sleeps more than a teenager, but I'll figure something out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik's tone is teasing when he responds, bringing heat to Kerry's face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>"I'm sure you will. Be forty minutes. Keep the door open for me."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hangs up. Kerry tosses his phone back on the bed and trots downstairs, following the sound of the shower running until he's kicking off his own clothes and joining V under the warm beat of water on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feeling alright?" Kerry asks quietly, sliding his hands around V's waist. He sways, but isn't in danger of falling over — he simply leans back against Kerry, his skin heated from the shower and the steam rising around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," V says. "Yeah, was just... I dunno, thinking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"About?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V turns in Kerry's arms, his hands coming up to touch at Kerry's jaw. His mouth tugs down into a grimace that Kerry tries to wipe away with a kiss but V leans back, avoiding it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'M sorry, for earlier," V says. "You were tryin' to help and I bit your head off for it."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus, this kid...</span>
  </em>
  <span> "V, you could scream and throw shit and I'd still be here," Kerry says levelly. "There's not much you can do, now. I'm here. So please, just... let me help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V lets him lean forward and kiss him this time when he tries. The blood is gone from his beard, his teeth, the palm of his rough hand — any trace of their sudden beginning to their early morning having washed away down the drain already. V is warm from the water instead of fever, he's flushed from his cheeks to his chest from affection instead of embarrassment, and Kerry hasn't been more proud of him than he is right now with these little victories as much as the big ones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're both smiling when Kerry rocks back on his heels from the kiss. V's smile is especially dopey lately, so clear and free from Johnny's mean twist to his lips. Kerry hadn't noticed how boyish V could look without Johnny's hold on his expressions, hadn't seen how completely their psyches were jockeying for position at the forefront of control. It had to have been hard, fighting someone like Johnny even though Johnny wasn't meaning to take and take and take. It must have been hard to lose himself while dying at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," V laughs against Kerry's lips. Teasing, light. Kerry pecks him again and drags him further under the water, smirking against V's grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, yourself," he says. "Vik told me to keep you awake, so..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head, a silent question. V's laugh turns into a snicker and he nods. Kerry sinks to his knees without another word while V's leg hooks over his shoulder, drawing him closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V is awake yet dozing in bed by the time Vik rolls up the driveway in a Delamain. Kerry shakes V awake, murmuring "He's here" before he's trotting down the stairs to greet Vik at the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Still awake?" Vik asks. He looks like he barely gave himself time to dress and comb his hair before coming over, a small case tucked underneath his arm and a duffel over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry ducks his chin, battling off the grin that still manages to fight its way onto his face. "Awake. Hasn't coughed since earlier."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik shakes his head, smiling. "Right. Let's take a look, see if what I'm thinking is what's finally happening."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? What's finally happening?" Kerry tails Vik up the stairs, trying not to sound angry as they round the corner to V pushing himself up in bed. "He's gonna be alright, Vik. Right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah," Vik says. "I wasn't lying to you. He's going to be fine. But the coughing, the blood —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sets the case and duffel beside V on the bed, kneeling down in front of him in the same motion. V's expression is carefully blank — a familiar expression Kerry was used to seeing back during their acquaintance. V had been hesitant to open up back then, was scared of letting anyone in despite his circumstances, and still they made it here. To see him so closed off again makes Kerry ache for time spent alone without coughing, without symptoms, without blood left pooled in shaking palms —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just give it to me straight, Vik," V sighs. "I promise I won't be mad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry sinks into the mattress beside V as Vik rocks back on his heels. "Well," Vik says, "there's... I've been looking at your brain scans. Pretty much have 'em tattooed behind my eyelids. Inflammation went down, no doubt, and the damage left by the relic is starting to scar over, but... the engram Alt slotted back into you — the one that's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> — is having a hard time building connections into that existing scar tissue."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's blank façade breaks for just a moment for Kerry to see the flash of fear ignite in his eyes before V shuts it down again. "So... is it taking at all? Am I still gonna..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik is shaking his head before V finishes. "No. You're going to be fine. But the symptoms are gonna keep happening while that scar tissue is broken down and new neurons form."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brings the case up into his lap and opens it. Three thin hypos sit inside the formed foam, filled with a clear liquid. When he lifts one out, V offers his arm wordlessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik shakes the hypo before pressing it against V's inner elbow. "Anti-inflammatory. Should keep the coughing down, and mitigate the blood a bit. You'll still experience some when another fit happens, but they shouldn't be as often, and you'll be able to sleep through the night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hypo hisses when he depresses the plunger. V winces, but doesn't pull away, and after it's been fully administered, Vik replaces the hypo in the case and hands it to Kerry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll give him the other two every morning for the next two days," Vik says. "This'll set him up for later medication to fight back the rest of the symptoms."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> is right here," V says petulantly. Kerry snorts, and Vik turns an apologetic smirk on V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And he needs to take it easy. You're two weeks out from getting split, kiddo. Still feel unbalanced? Dizzy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V glances at Kerry, who nods. "Yeah. Not just the dizziness, neither. Sometimes I feel like I'm... like he's still there, sometimes."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd described the feeling to Kerry one early morning not unlike this one. It'd been a couple days after bringing V back from Misty's, a couple days of well-earned quiet rest that Kerry spent juggling how to care for a lover that was so used to being completely independent. V had to rely solely on himself for so long that he'd grown resistant to someone doting — and Kerry, on the same coin, wasn't used to doting. He could cook and bully V into showers, and cuddling and physical affection came naturally, but keeping in mind that Kerry didn't eat three square meals a day and V definitely wasn't used to eating food that wasn't hyperprocessed was a god damn fucking chore in the making. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet that morning — that morning V had woken so violently Kerry fell out of bed and scrambled for a gun in his sudden, inexplicable fear. He’d turned around to face the bed, drawn to the forever-there presence of V, and still to this day he hasn't been so arrested by anything in his life except for what he saw right then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V had looked around, panting and sweating, wide eyes searching for a person that wasn't — couldn't — would never be — there. And then he'd seen Kerry lying on the floor, naked with a gun in his hand, just as frozen as V was at finding himself there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You — you okay?" Kerry had gasped. He'd gotten up and put the gun back where it belonged in the bedside table, had moved slowly so V could anticipate him as he reached for his face and cradled him gently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V had nodded, slow, still scared. His eyes had been wide and there had been a look to him, so haunted and heartbroken, that Kerry could still recall it even in his weakest of moments. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'M okay," V had mumbled. "Okay. Just — sometimes — when I'm right about to fall asleep —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry hadn't let him finish. He couldn't. Couldn't let those words become real, couldn't let V's nightmares crawl from the pit they belonged in. He'd kissed V until they both were breathless, until the shadows stopped reaching their spindly fingers towards them from the dark corners of their hearts. He’d never used sex to shut out someone else’s demons before — hadn’t ever been selfless and selfish enough to try it without the haze of his own depression blinding him to his own special demons — but he did that night. V’s body had been warm and pliant, yet his hands and mouth had been searching. Every kiss was a question, one Kerry didn’t know how to answer, so he’d fucked V hard and slow just to block out the screaming wonderings pushing against both their teeth like fumbling, aching secrets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the worst fuck they’d ever had. V clung to him afterwards, clung to him so hard Kerry still has the scratches down his back from how scared V had been. Scared of the dark, scared of what he might see hanging in the fringes of his vision. Scared that if he went to sleep now, he wouldn’t wake up, leaving what he’d fought and bled and died for in Kerry’s shaking, incapable hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry couldn’t speak. Couldn’t form words against V’s tears pressing into his throat. So he’d kissed him, his hair, his ear, the gentle slope of his chin and cheek. Everywhere Kerry could reach just so V didn’t have to speak. And he didn’t, but a small part of Kerry wonders what he’d say if he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I see Johnny sometimes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he might’ve said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I see him there, right at the edge of my vision. Like nothing happened, like we're still together, like I didn't just cut him out of me, taking a part of myself with him. Like a part of me didn't shred into a thousand, million pieces along with the entirety of his soul that had become mine, too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kerry would’ve said back. He ached so much to have been strong enough to speak. He wanted it so badly, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m so sorry. I love you. Please don’t leave me. Let me shield you. Let me chase the shadows away. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t. He can’t. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Instead he kisses and kisses, fighting back tears with gentle lips and well-deserved patience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shadows were too long, too well-fed from the light in V's heart. There were things Kerry could fight, things he could battle back with words and song and the sad voice of his guitar. And then there was this, this beast lurking inside V like so many blaring lights, so many faceless crowds, so many dropping curtains that V would have to face again and again and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It'd been too much. Is too much. Kerry can't breathe, can't sleep sometimes knowing V is awake wondering where that large part of himself has gone to. The new neurons will form, his brain will be whole again, but he will always be left with the pieces of himself that were never truly his in the end. The pieces that aren't V, aren't Johnny, but aren't neither of them, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik seems to understand. Kerry doesn't need to do much except shake his head before Vik is tugging V down and pressing a kiss to his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I can give you something to keep you asleep, too," Vik murmurs. "Something to keep you down."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. "Please." He sounds broken, hollow. Kerry wraps his arm around his waist and tugs him close. "Please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik digs in his duffel and produces a bottle of pills. He sets them on the bedside table, leaning back on his haunches to get a proper look at V and Kerry both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"One before bed," Vik says. "If you don't go down in forty minutes or so, take another. Won't hurt, just some melatonin, but it'll help you sleep."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," V says quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course, kiddo." Vik stands with one more parting kiss to V's hair. "Now take one and sleep. 'M sure Kerry wants to sleep, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry nods, but he gets up to shake Vik's hand anyway. "Prolly be up for a while. Thank you, seriously. Can I put in an order of that stuff later today?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses his head at the case of anti-inflammitories. Vik scoffs a quiet laugh. "Nah. I'll bring some in a couple days. Better to keep the bouts small, see how he does. If he takes well, we can start the next round."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Kerry says. "I'll keep you updated in the meantime. Any side effects I should worry about?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothin'. I'll be back tomorrow for normal checkups, alright?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V looks up finally, and while his eyes are filled with tears, they don't fall down his cheeks. "See you then, Vik."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik leaves them with a wave and a small smile. Kerry waits until he hears an engine turn over outside before dropping beside V again, turning himself more fully towards him. Without a word, V sinks into his arms, hugging Kerry so tight he nearly goes breathless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'S okay," Kerry murmurs into V's hair. V isn't a loud crier, but he can feel him hitching against his hands, his neck, warm breath stuttering over heated skin a small comfort even now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just wanna be okay," V stutters. "I just wanna — don't wanna feel like I did, Ker. Like I was dyin', like everything I did was for nothin' —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, it fucking breaks Kerry hearing V like this. Shatters all that he is, his heart and heartbroken soul, to know that there’s nothing he can fucking do to make any of this better. He wants so desperately to scoop out all that’s broken and hide it away just so V can live a little bit without worrying, without crying, without wondering if he made the wrong choice or the right one. He wants so much for this to end so he can wake up beside V to see him whole and smiling and just like he was in the little moments the world afforded them when the shadows got to be too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But this is part of getting there, he has to remind himself. This is part of achieving such a lofty goal. They had to fight and suffer and endure through every trial just to see another and another, and eventually when they passed through enough, it would end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, baby, I know,” Kerry murmurs. He loves V. Would do all the could for V. He’d be there every step of the way, including these ones, just like this. “We're workin' on that part. That's what all the meds and checkups are for. Y'know we gotta do them. You know, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods into Kerry's neck. Kerry pulls him tighter against him, wraps his arms around him and breathes him in. Already V is warmer, fuller, feels more like himself than he's been in months. Even through the tears, the heartache, the burn deep in Kerry's chest where his soul yearns for this man — he knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's alive. He's alright. They'll make it through this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have so far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wakes to a familiar warm body in the circle of his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is Kerry’s preferred way of waking up. No alarms to startle either of them out of bed, no meetings to go to or songs to record. He’s got time on his hands for now, to spend how he wants if not waste it away right here in bed. And he does for a while, simply dozing while V breathes against him, the line of his warm back pressed to Kerry’s front a welcome weight he curls closer to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s medication keeps him down longer, though, and eventually Kerry feels the itch for coffee creeping up on him sooner than he wants. He slips his arms from around V’s waist, careful not to jostle him, then leans over him and kisses his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be just a bit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sinta,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kerry murmurs. “Gonna get some coffee and a shower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V doesn’t respond. Kerry doesn’t expect anything, so he simply kisses V again and rises from bed. He keeps the windows tinted and the lights off as he wanders downstairs, careful to stay quiet. V could probably sleep through a nuclear war, but Kerry wasn’t about to find out now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He orders coffee from Calienté with a few taps on his phone, then while it’s being processed, jumps in the shower. This he keeps quick and quiet as well, unable to fathom spending much more time outside of bed than he wants to. V so rarely got to sleep through the morning, and Kerry wanted to be there when he woke if only to see that sleepy smile on V’s face when he finally did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry waves the shower off then dries with the towel he left out the day before. The holo dings with the drone’s arrival when he’s wiggling into some pajama pants, so he barely manages not to crack his head open as he hurries out to catch it before it starts screaming at him, possibly loud enough to wake V. He takes the styrofoam case it leaves on the sidewalk, sends it back up into the sky, then goes back in, sipping on the coffee it brought him with the empty styrofoam case underneath his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trots back up the stairs after discarding it, paper coffee cup in hand, expecting to find V still fast asleep where he left him. Instead, he discovers V sitting halfway up in bed, holding his left side with a look of true annoyance crumpling his pretty face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck,” Kerry gasp. He sets his coffee on the bedside table and comes around to V’s side of the bed, reaching out to take V’s hands away from his side. “You okay? Did anything tear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” V says groggily. “Just fuckin’ hurts, ‘s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Underneath V’s hand is a beautiful line of stitches sealing shut the bullet wound, not bleeding and not weeping whatsoever. It’s red though, irritated from being pulled, and Kerry grimaces when V flinches at his fingers skating around the puffy skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lemme get the antibiotic, then,” Kerry says. “Want more pain meds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head. “I’ll be okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry frowns, but he accepts it. He kisses V as he rises, then grabs the tube of antibiotic cream from V’s side of the bed and carefully dabs it over the wound, covering it with a gauze pad to keep it clean for the few hours between now and when V showers. V smiles at him gratefully when Kerry returns to bed, looking less irate already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Ker,” he says. “It hurts like a fuckin’ bitch. Never had a gunshot hurt as bad as this one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry manages a sad smile. “Kinda shitty you know what a gunshot feels like to distinguish between a less painful one and one like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh.” V leans to the side, searching for a kiss Kerry gives him. “Mostly just know it fucking sucks, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really gotta let me know when it gets worse, then,” Kerry says softly. “So I can help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods reluctantly. This is a circuitous argument, one Kerry drops pretty much immediately. V asks for help, even when he doesn’t know he’s doing it, his tough merc reputation be damned. Kerry won’t beg when already they’ve made the steps to make such a question moot anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry lays back, holding his arm out for V. Without having to ask, V reclines back, fitting against Kerry’s side with an unsteady sigh. He still hurts, Kerry knows, so he’s careful not to move as V finds where he’s comfortable, his hands roaming Kerry’s chest and shoulders before suddenly their eyes lock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Kerry says with a low laugh. V sits up properly, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. A flash passes behind his grey eyes, dark and hungry, and immediately Kerry feels his blood heat up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, yourself,” V returns with that little smile. “Come here often?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry snorts. “How old are you again? Gonna hit me with some more one liners, ask if I got a ride home or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s smile turns toothy. “Nah. Could ask for your number, though. Text you shitty comments about how hot you were at the bar last night…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans over Kerry, his hands coming up to frame his face on either side of the pillow. Kerry reaches up to hold him around the waist on instinct now, melting into the kiss V presses into his mouth as V slots against his front so perfectly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s this coming from?” Kerry manages after a slow minute spent getting necked senseless. “Not that I mind, because I don’t, but if this is residual from when I dragged your pretty ass out of Arasaka…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” V murmurs against his lips. His hands come up to cradle Kerry’s face, the smartlink in his right palm a warm drag of friction across his beard as he strokes it. “No, not that. Just… just miss you, is all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry’s heart squeezes in his burning chest at the look of plain want in V’s eyes. He’d always been so expressive in the eyes, so easy to reveal his true intentions with one simple glance — and now the ghost of Johnny is gone, that slightly mean wrinkle between his brows absent forever. Kerry soothes a kiss across that same brow, kissing down his cheek to his sweet mouth that tempts him more often than not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss you, too,” Kerry sighs. His hands tighten around V’s waist, pressing him closer. The heat building between them is just right and not enough all at once. “Oh, V, I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s next kiss is deep with a longing ache Kerry feels echoing in his own soul. He can’t rest on his patience anymore, can’t hold back the static urge to touch and kiss where he’s been wanting to for weeks now. Instead, he follows the insistence of V’s mouth against his, the hands tugging his shirt over his head and the hips rolling sweet heat into the answer Kerry’s body sings for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This, his hands are familiar with. He sits up when V starts fumbling at the tie of his pajama pants, sliding his palms underneath V’s shirt to rid him of it before helping him with his pants. Kerry kicks them off, thankful at least he didn’t think to get fully dressed today — if there was one more layer between them he’d probably scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it is, the moan that V drags out of him expresses the same sentiment. Kerry licks into his mouth as those worn, gentle hands move down his neck, thumbs tracing the golden lines down Kerry’s throat. Those calloused thumbs draw goosebumps in their wake, making Kerry’s breath hitch and his eyelids flutter. He returns the heady favor by pushing down V’s pajama pants and briefs in one swift, sure motion, revealing long tanned thighs that he slides his palms around to drag V closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bodies slot together, skin to naked skin, heated and sticky with sweat already. Kerry’s missed this, the feel of V against him, of his desire plain in the biting kiss he sucks against Kerry’s pulse. His mouth moves in a nipping, delicious line down Kerry’s neck, placing kisses along the chrome of his reconstructed throat. It weakens his grip for a brief moment — he’s always been sensitive there, always grown weak at the touch of a mouth or finger on his chromed throat, but V really knows how to take that feeling and ramp it to eleven. He tilts his head back with a shaky breath as V works bruising kiss after bruising kiss along those golden lines, his nails scratching red welts down V’s thighs when V finally sucks a hot kiss under the hinge of his jaw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bodies come together after that, seeking friction and kisses and the press of Kerry’s cock between them. V lets out a similarly shaky moan at the feeling, his thighs spreading wider in Kerry’s lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, V,” Kerry groans. V grinds down, searching wordlessly for attention that Kerry is all too happy to give with a roll of his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the idea,” V laughs against his throat. Kerry snorts, unable to keep himself from laughing either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me help with that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mahal,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Kerry purrs. His hands curl over his hips, guiding V down against him with the natural roll of their bodies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” V sighs. “Kerry, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Nakuha kita. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Come here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V does with eager hands and a soft expression that has Kerry’s heart squeezing with how much he loves this man. He shifts back, leaning most of his weight against the pillows at the head of the bed while V follows him up. Kerry is careful to keep V upright with a steady hand on his hip while digging under the pillow for the box of condoms he bought weeks ago that they’ve only had the chance to use a couple times. V was always so tired, so worn from the shit he was going through that it didn’t feel right to urge him unless he asked for it. Even now, guilt eats at Kerry, but then V leans down and presses a yearning kiss against his lips that lasts a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the end of it, Kerry is breathless and his hands have come up to hold V’s face against his own to keep him from parting. V’s full weight is on top of him now, his strong biceps caging Kerry in against the pillows, his thighs squeezing his hips. There’s so little space between them now they share breath when Kerry pulls back to gasp V’s name, but it isn’t suffocating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, it’s comforting. He opens his eyes and sees grey ringed with chromatic silver looking back at him. He feels a heartbeat against his own and calloused hands cupping his neck and jaw. V’s touch draws soft sounds from Kerry that V swallows up in urgent kisses, each blending into the next until there isn’t much point in counting them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, at the urgency of V’s hips grinding down in uncoordinated circles and after freeing his hands from where they’d anchored at V’s waist, Kerry finds the condoms. V laughs against his lips when he tosses the box after fumbling to get one out, though that gets muffled against Kerry’s cheek when Kerry gets the condom on and lines up with an unsteady hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?” Kerry asks after they spend an unsteady minute breathing. His hand aches where he’s pressing down on V’s lower back, ready to urge him down against the roll of his hips. His whole body sings for the moment they finally join together like they’ve done so many times before, equal parts exhilaration and heartache. He loves V, desires him far more than anyone he’s desired before, but he won’t if V says no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V, who is panting above him both from arousal and the pain in his side from his still-healing wound. V, who is looking at him with half-lidded eyes that Kerry could get lost in if he allowed himself to. V, who despite all odds and conventions and supremely bad luck, is here, hovering over Kerry on shaky arms, panting and sweaty and a vision all his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V, who nods his head with a sigh through his nose. V, who is Kerry’s heart, his spirit, his rockerboy soul, everything he couldn’t have been on his own despite his rise to fame on the backs of screaming crowds. V, who very gently presses their foreheads together and rolls his hips down in a fluid motion that has them both gasping through the tight push of finally coming together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you so much,” Kerry can’t help but gasp. It’s true, so true it hurts not to say. V shudders above him, nodding, their faces so close he can see the dilation of V’s optics as he sinks further down Kerry’s length. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Missed you too,” V breathes. “Missed you a lot, Ker. So fuckin’ much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry kisses him. The urge to move is there, an itch so hot and painful it burns not to chase it, but instead he slides his hands down V’s sides, his back, miles of warm skin all his own, now. V heaves shaky breaths and manages to rise onto his hands, leaning over Kerry with a gleam in his eye that speaks to the mirrored raging fire burning up Kerry’s throat — he loves this man, would do anything for him, would move heaven and earth if he’d only ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, he doesn’t ask for such herculean things, doesn’t beg for Atlas to burden himself with one more request. Instead, he breathes deep and sits up, his body rising off Kerry’s length slid snug inside him. Kerry cradles his hands around V’s hips again, his breath stolen as a familiar rhythm settles over them both. V sets the pace, a slow grind down that Kerry meets with burning enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s hard not to kick the spurs after that, hard not to follow the urgency in V’s circling hips and the blood-hot heat of their connection. They’ve fucked before, in showers and on yachts, on the kitchen counter and in this very bed. He’s fucked and been fucked by V a dozen times since meeting him, but this time — with V injured above him, breathless as he undulates down, his hair messy from Kerry’s fingers running through it and his expression lax with pleasure all his own, just his own, now — it’s as if Kerry’s doing this for the first time all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands slide over the sweat-tacky skin of V’s thighs, gentling him into an easier pace. He wants nothing more than to fuck V silly, but V is injured, and he can see in the increasing wrinkle between V’s brows that he’s getting tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, baby,” Kerry gasps after a particularly slow grind of V’s hips down onto his cock. V stops, that wrinkle of frustration turning into confusion— yet he’s breathing too hard, too fast, and Kerry knows it’s not from pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry offers his hand after he stops V’s hips from moving. Understanding comes over V, and then his fingers fumble to thread through Kerry’s, seeking both a connection and a hard grip as he tugs Kerry up. He follows V’s hands, lets him be maneuvered as V pitches back to lay down the length of the bed, his back sliding along the cool sheets until he’s laid back with Kerry’s hips framed between his gorgeous thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There,” Kerry says. V breathes slower, his sly mouth ticked up in a grin. Kerry leans down and kisses it, laughing against his lips at V’s groan when he sinks deeper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just don’t lean too hard,” V says breathlessly when they separate. “Wouldn’t want to tell Vik how I ripped my stitches.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry scoffs. He rolls his hips, angling down gently to make a point — V’s eyelids flutter as their rhythm returns between one gasping breath and the next.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Won’t ever hurt you, sweetheart,” Kerry murmurs. He leans down, bending V slowly, letting V’s legs come around his waist at his own pace. V eases around him, his expression going lax as Kerry presses in deeper. V can hardly kiss back when Kerry licks a kiss into his mouth. “Just this —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrusts slow, deep, snapping his hips forward against the growing tide building low inside him. V’s nails scratch down his arms, his wrist, his back and sides — he can hardly gasp a full breath as Kerry keeps up the gentle yet piercing pace. His thighs fall wider, inviting Kerry deeper, drawing a startled moan from them both when the angle changes just enough to finally ignite V’s kindling fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>There</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” V gasps. His nails dig into Kerry’s back, driving Kerry insane, his hips suddenly rabbiting forward at V’s urgency. “Right there, fuck, right there —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you,” Kerry thinks he responds, but he’s not so sure he does. All his focus narrows to V’s wet mouth nipping uncoordinated kisses against his cheek and jaw as Kerry keeps the angle V wants, his body burning with the pace but he doesn’t care. All that matters is V squeezing him tight, his nails digging into his back, spurring him on with a like-minded fire. All that matters is V’s consuming heat around him, his mouth laving kisses against him, his sweet pitched moans that Kerry drags out of him with each staccato thrust of his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V arches, suddenly breathless, when Kerry worms a hand between them to rub circles around his clit. He loves that witless look that comes over V when Kerry’s fingers or mouth finally touch him — loves that all he has to do is work his hardening clit in a quick rhythm and have him coming in seconds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” V gasps. “Yes, Kerry, please — oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>—“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry obeys. He props himself up on his other hand, parting from V’s gasping mouth to rub tight circles against him, driving his hips forward in a quick, deep pace that almost instantly has V’s entire body seizing with a sharp moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s orgasm flushes him red as he scrabbles against Kerry’s shoulders. Kerry slows, moving just enough to find his own orgasm inside V’s clenching walls as he keeps rubbing senseless patterns around V’s clit. He comes with a grunt, static filling his limbs and ears, his body surging forward even as V begins to whimper with overstimulation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops when V pushes against his chest with a shaking hand. Kerry backs off enough to pull out and tie the condom before tossing it into the bin beside the bed. His limbs quickly turn weak as the static fades, barely giving him enough time to gather V against his chest before post-orgasm uselessness settles in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs breathlessly when Kerry manages not to squish either of them with his uncoordinated limbs while settling beside him. Kerry laughs too, if only because hearing V laugh is far and away one of his most favourite sounds on the planet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he manages after a moment of heavy breathing. V shakes his head, then turns to look at him, his smile crooked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess what,” V says. “Give you two guesses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry stares for a few long moments. Then his eyes narrow and he sits up, adrenaline suddenly flooding him again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods. “Yeah,” he laughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry sits all the way up and leans over V. And, just like he’d feared, V’s wound is trickling blood down his side onto the sheets, the gauze pad having been rubbed off some time during the past twenty minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Kerry curses. “V, I’m so sorry. Let me clean this up —“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V’s laugh twinges with a hint of pain when Kerry presses his discarded shirt to his side. V sits up enough to put pressure on it himself while Kerry steps back and calls Vik.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just tell him I fell,” V says as the holo rings out on speaker. Kerry scoffs and shakes his head, gesturing between the both of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I clearly just fucked you within an inch of your life. He’s gonna know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awfully confident you fucked me that good,” V teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry resists pouncing on him only because there’s still blood soaking through the shirt V has against his side. “Very fucking funny, V. Have you forgotten this guy can smell lies across the fucking continent —“</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He can also hear you arguing, too,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Vik’s voice chimes in from the holo. V guffaws, and Kerry throws another dirty glare at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“So what happened?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fell,” V says at the same time Kerry growls, “I fucked him so hard he popped a stitch.” This time, it’s V’s turn to glare, which Kerry returns with a toothy grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ha, well,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Vik laughs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Alright. Just keep pressure on it, won’t hurt anything as you don’t, ah… continue.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” V growls. “We’re done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t bite each other’s heads off, neither. Be over to fix it in a few.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Vik hangs up, and immediately Kerry drops the phone on the bed and snatches up his pajama pants. He tugs them on while V continues to glare at him, but by the time Kerry’s managed to make himself look halfway presentable, his smile is back, albeit small.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” he says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell Vik you just fucked my brains out again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry wags a finger at him. “Oho, so it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> that good, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t let it go to your head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He collapses back with a grunt, his other hand coming up to put pressure on his side. Kerry follows him down and bats his hands away, taking over for him with a gentle press into the wound. V sighs, pained, but curls a finger under Kerry’s chin and draws him close, apologizing and granting forgiveness with one of the many warm kisses Kerry could forever get lost in if the world would just stop spinning for a little while. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even with Vik's careful, caring expertise, V is slow to mend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His coughing fits are fewer and farther between, but they don't stop bringing blood behind V's teeth until about the third week on the anti-inflammatory meds. That morning when V coughs and coughs and coughs into his hands and then leans away to look at the mess in his hands only to see nothing — God, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They celebrate with the most expensive bottle of champagne Kerry can buy and a long morning spent drinking it off V's skin. Kerry isn't sure he's ever heard V laugh so much before, but he tells himself that's the first morning they can start counting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, they give him a week to adjust to breathing through each day without the threat of blood souring his mood. Every day is a miracle of its own when he doesn't, and with each passing hour, V is happier, more vibrant. Kerry falls in love with him a little more with each smile, each gleam in his eye, each wrinkle in his face and every curve of his body beneath his hands. There's much to learn, now that they have time. Much to learn without the shadow of death and loss hanging over them both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The week passes. Vik comes and administers the first bout of immunosuppressives and steroids on the back end of more good news: brain scans from the day before of beautiful new tissue spreading out into V's injured brain, little spindly hands reaching out into matter once thought permanently destroyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This," Vik says, pointing, awed. The ring of tissue is still thin, still new, but it's strong. The relief on V's face mirrors what Kerry feels beating against his chest. "Look at that, kiddo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Kerry spend a long time with those scans in their hands. V's brain is pocked with holes, with areas entirely destroyed or overwritten with neurons not his own, but at the edges of these dark pockets are the fine grey hairs of new connections forming. Connections that belong to V, and only V. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's the most stunning thing Kerry has ever seen besides V himself. The most stunning, most beautiful thing. Already songs spin themselves to life in his head at the sight of those scans, beautiful, longing things meant for V alone but he'll do it. He'll sing them to the world if he has to. To make it see, to make it appreciate all that V is, all that he's done, all that he means to Kerry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he starts composing those songs, V is none the wiser at first. And he shouldn't be — Kerry doesn't start singing until he's sure the lyrics are roughly what they should be. But he plays, with a guitar in his lap when they're watching television or with his arms around V when they're sleeping, his fingers following the frets as if already by memory. V learns the songs through touch first, and then through song and breath, and it's the widest he's ever seen V smile when he strums the first chord to the verse he finished the night before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're such a romantic, you know that?" V laughs. "Big bad rockerboy, head over heels for a wimpy merc."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wimpy my fuckin' ass, V," Kerry says with a scoff. "You could snipe my ass from a thousand yards and I would thank you for it, you know that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he says." Kerry leans forward, quirking a brow. V meets him halfway in a sweet kiss Kerry feels all the way down to his toes. "Or maybe I've just got a romantic muse. Every thought of that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hmm." Kerry can taste his smirk against his lips before V is leaning away. But V doesn't argue — doesn't even put up a token fight. Instead, he listens with rapt attention as Kerry takes him through the entire album, song by song, ending and starting each one with a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blood never comes back. Two months into the combined medications and steroids, the destroyed tissue in V's brain grows over itself. Scar tissue replaces lost connections, and through that scar tissue, the implant in V's nape containing his engram writes new connections into it. They grow like roots through fine silt, and eventually V's brain is nearly indistinguishable from a healthy one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's healed, in all imperfect beauty. That morning, Kerry takes V to Vik, and in fifteen minutes Vik has the implant removed and the tiny little cut cleaned and cauterized. And just like that, V’s done. With engrams, with overwritten consciousnesses — he's alone, now. Just himself in his own body, as it should have been months ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here," Vik says quietly. He drops the tiny little sub-dermal chip in V's palm, tiny and innocuous considering how much of Kerry’s world had been residing on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All that I was," V laughs softly. "On this tiny little thing, huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably wasn't much on there, anyway," Kerry ribs. "I mean, considering how much wasn't in your noggin in the first place — </span>
  <em>
    <span>ow</span>
  </em>
  <span>!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's elbow digs right underneath Kerry's rib cage in a point-perfect jab. The glare he fixes on Kerry is worth the little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're a fuckin' jerk, you know that?" V says. Kerry shrugs, leaning forward to kiss him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Love you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>syota</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uhhuh." V pushes on his chest with his palm, but he's still smiling when Kerry leans back. "Nice distraction tactic."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As long as it worked."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's fingers curl around the implant in his hand. It's so small, barely bigger than a long grain of rice, and still it had contained so much of what Kerry holds dear. Everything that's now safely back in V's brain, written through new neurons and connections that had been ravaged so thoroughly a couple months before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, instead of giving it back to Vik, V hops off the edge of the gurney and walks over to the biohazard bin along the back wall next to the sink basin. Without a word, he tips the implant into the bin, dropping the lid with the foot pedal afterwards with a clang. When he turns around, his expression is easy, without the perpetual little wrinkle that'd been sitting between his brows for so long now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Doin' okay, kiddo?" Vik asks quietly. "It's been about a week since the engram meld was completed, so you shouldn't feel anything without the implant, but it was driving a lot of your cognitive functions for a while now, and..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'M alright," V says. He steps forward and tugs Vik into a tight hug that the ripper returns with equal enthusiasm. "Thank you. What you did for me —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't," Vik says. "Don't. You don't ever have to thank me, kiddo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V nods against Vik's shoulder. "Okay. I won't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they part, Vik hides his tears behind his hands as he rubs under his glasses. V isn't quite so embarrassed, but he does turn his face into Kerry's neck a bit when they gravitate closer, wiping at his eyes with a shaky hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feelin' okay?" Kerry asks quietly. He raises his hand to cup V's nape, carefully swiping his thumb over the tiny incision when he does. V doesn't flinch, barely even moves, but he does finally look up at Kerry with eyes less haunted than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know what's funny? I wasn't even worried about what would happen when the implant came out," V says. "I was more worried... I dunno. More worried that I wouldn't... wouldn't be me anymore, I guess."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry feels his heart seize. They'd struggled for weeks as V recovered, working through the final dregs of illness the relic had so generously blessed him with throughout — and after — its rewrite of his neural pathways. There were the obvious physical aspects, the blood, the coughing, the unsteady balance, the weight loss and general degradation of V's health over a period of time Kerry wasn't sure he'd survive through. If he had to compare it to any other condition, it'd been like caring for someone coming out of an extremely exhausting bout of chemotherapy, or an aggressive form of cancer. V had been a shell of himself initially, a ghost of the person he was now — and even before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the mental toll — the days they spent doing nothing, the long nights Kerry spent worrying. The unspoken confessions, the ones released on hitched breath and hot tears. So much of who V was as a person had been thrown into question by none other than V himself, and for a brief moment Kerry thought there'd come a point where even he would doubt the man he'd fallen in love with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much had changed. So much of who V was, what he had been, what he could be — but then, not really. What he had lost, he had gained again, and what he thought he'd lost, he hadn't lost at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"V," Kerry sighs. He tugs V close, sliding his arms around his slim waist. V hugs him back, tight and without restraint, the circle of his arms drawing Kerry ever closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's stupid, I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not stupid, you fucking idiot," Kerry sighs again. He turns his face and kisses V's ear, staying there after to murmur into his ear. "You had good reason to think you wouldn't be you after everything. But you are, and there's nothing to worry about. You've always been you, for as long as any of us have known you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're you, kiddo," Vik chimes in quietly. "I think any one of us woulda known if you weren't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V steps back with a reserved, yet grateful, smile on his lips. Kerry takes his hand and rubs his knuckles with his thumb, offering whatever comfort he can as V turns towards the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks, Vik," V says. He ignores Vik's grumbling, smiling wider, more genuine. "I'll see you around, huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Three times a week," Vik says. "You're not gettin' out of it no matter how much you squirm. Gotta keep an eye on that sponge of yours before you go nuking it with more rogue AIs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V laughs, and Kerry shakes his head. "I think we're done with that," Kerry says. He turns a stern look on V. "I'm serious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't my fault! I had it forced on me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No more." Kerry tugs him towards the door, throwing a wave over his shoulder to Vik. "See you in a couple days!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't get shot," Vik calls back. V trots after Kerry up the stairs and through Misty's shop, stopping to accept the quick kiss she presses to his cheek before they head out. Her shop has been busier lately, and already a couple people mingle inside looking at the little spiritual shrines she has for sale. She smiles at Kerry as well as they pass through, and Kerry returns it with a wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once out on the street, Kerry slows down so they can walk side-by-side to V's car. Usually, they'd drop each other's hands once out in public — an instinct now that they've been coming to Vik's instead of the other way around — but this time Kerry threads their fingers together, pointedly ignoring the startled look V whips around on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kerry," V says slowly. "My hand —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is right where it's supposed to be," Kerry finishes. He turns to look V in the eye, who only blinks back. "Got a problem with that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, no," V says quickly. "No. Just... It's nice, is all. Nice walking with you like this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry smiles. People are noticing now, if not V then at least that he's holding hands with Kerry. He purposefully ignores them, walking V along the alley until they reach the sleek black form of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cthulhu</span>
  </em>
  <span> parked at the end. Before they can part, Kerry tugs V close by their entwined hands, meeting V in the middle with a press of their lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really like playing with fire, don't you," V laughs against him. Kerry can hear the artificial click of phones snapping pictures, a familiar noise by now, but V picks up on it immediately. "You okay with this?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry hums. "Are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V raises a brow. "Ain't my hat in the ring, baby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is now, if you'll have it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's expression softens. Kerry loves it, loves that he looks so much like his age when he allows himself to drop the tough merc façade. The sound of phone cameras clicking falls away as V leans a hair closer, those silver-grey eyes all Kerry has attention for, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"'M here," he says softly. Kerry knows what he means. Here, in the moment, but also </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All of him, all that he is and has been, all that he will be and can be. A part of his soul will always have a Johnny-shaped hole in, something gaping and hungry and aching with something missing, but Kerry's has one too — and he knows a thing or three about dealing with Johnny-shaped holes in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A crowd is forming close by, respectable in distance only because Kerry's reputation as a spectacular hothead precedes him by decades. He leans close, kissing V again, who is hesitant only for a moment before he reciprocates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad you're here," Kerry says. "Glad I get to stand here with you. After everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's smile is small, but no less beautiful. It's crooked, like it always is, with a little bit of teeth. It tugs at the faint scar left by Kerry's gun, lifting his lip in a snarl, but it's not angry, not mean. Not like Johnny had twisted his grin so often, not like the ghost of a man fifty years dead still clinging like so many shadows in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Glad you're here, too," V murmurs. He looks away, towards the people gathering, but his attention doesn't stray far for long. "Got no idea how happy I am not to be alone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Never alone. Not with Vik and Misty and —"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V shakes his head. "You know what I mean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Kerry does. Not alone, but lonely. Vik and Misty knew, and so did Panam and the Aldecaldos and Rogue, but it was a handful of folks. A handful in the grand scheme of machinations V has been a part of so far. He and Kerry had met in possibly the worst circumstances imaginable, and yet they're here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where he wants to be. Where V wants to be. It makes his heart pound and his skin flush, but God what a fucking feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they part, V ducks into the driver's side of the car while Kerry circles around to the passenger. The seat adjusts to Kerry automatically when he gets in, and to the growing noise of people starting to shout questions and song lyrics at Kerry, V steps on the gas and peels out onto the street, putting distance between them and the public eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, V reaches across and takes Kerry's hand. His coprocessor is rough against Kerry's palm, a textured slide of body-warm silicon pressed into a lifetime of calluses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry squeezes their hands together, memorizes the feel of V's fingertips pressing against his skin and the warmth gathering between their mismatched palms. It comes to him that V may want to return to mercwork, will want to drop back into the blood and grime and fire of a life Kerry is so far removed from, but they have time now. They have time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feel any different?" Kerry asks suddenly. V hums, then tilts his head, his fingers flexing around Kerry's hand as if testing his limbs before responding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good or bad different?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just any different," Kerry says. "Good, bad, ugly, whatever you feel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V thinks for a while. The growl of the engine is enough to lull Kerry into enough of a doze that he doesn't realize where they're going until V is taking them out of the city, towers and skyscrapers falling away like staggered stalagmites into the manicured suburbia just outside of it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Got a place in mind?" Kerry teases. V drives them into the familiar marina, parking near the entrance and cutting the engine but not getting out, his hand still wrapped around Kerry's. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>V hums. "I've just been thinking about what you said. Good, bad, ugly, whatever. And..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestures to the glimmer of the ocean beyond them. It glints like a fractured mirror in the setting sun, orange and pink and a gorgeous shade of purple beginning to tinge the edges of the clouds. Kerry would appreciate it more if it wasn't for how the colors tinged V's cheeks too, how the sun shrunk his pupils to pinpricks, how it caught in the ring of silver around his irises like the flash of a falling star crossing against a twinkling midnight sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's gorgeous. Still young, still vibrant, still so full of fight and life. He'd shaved this morning, leaving a carefully groomed fuzz of dark hair along his jaw and chin. The freckles dotting his nose and cheeks are more visible in the setting sunlight, and when Kerry leans close, his lips taste like the sun's warm rays, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And?" Kerry prompts softly. Resistant to breaking the mood, but V is pliant against him, all soft breath and softer kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feel real," V says finally. "I feel... like myself. I know what I said a while ago, that I sometimes think I see him, but... not anymore. It hurts sometimes, and I miss him when I feel like I'm alone, but 'M not lonely anymore. Not like I was."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Kerry's turn to melt. Their foreheads press together and all Kerry can breathe is V, all he can feel is V, all his heart sings for is V. His producer is going to shit a cow when she finds out who all these new songs are about (and all the new pictures of them kissing), but he doesn't care, hasn't ever cared. V cradles his hand so gently, kisses him so softly, trusts him so implicitly it'd be wrong not to sing his laurels to the heavens if he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he could. He will. There was no stopping him, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought for a long time I was going fucking crazy," Kerry says softly. V tilts his head, but his eyes are closed, listening. Kerry wouldn't be able to close his eyes if he tried. "I know you were going through it, I know it fucking sucked, but... you were always you, V. Always there. You never went anywhere, </span>
  <em>
    <span>kaluluwa ko</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V chuffs a quiet laugh. "Yeah, guess that'd drive me crazy, too. I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, V, don't be sorry. Just be you, like you have been. Nothing wrong with being a little scared."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's eyes finally flutter open. So pretty, that ring of silver. So unlike the gold Kerry prefers, though now, he thinks he's growing to be partial to the cool glint in V's eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Scared," V clarifies. "Are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head minutely. "Nah. Haven't been for a while. I got someone to thank for that, y'know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's smile is abashed. "Well, got someone to thank for chasin' my demons, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Think we both got a little gratitude to go around."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Suppose so."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both go silent. Kerry is reluctant to leave, even with the promise of some time on the yacht, but it's hard to break the moment now. Hard to pull away when V is close and he feels so like he did that night on the balcony in Dark Matter, with the city at their feet and the cool night air whipping around them, V standing in front of him scared but bold, so bold, so much bolder than Kerry could have possibly been.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'd been so breathless, so unsteady. V had kissed him and the world opened up just like that, flashes of light and color and so many melodies finally unlocked at Kerry's fingertips. That first time on the yacht, serenading V with a tune that just wouldn't leave him even now when he thought of V, left him breathless too. And this — right here, in a car he's been in with a man he's kissed a hundred thousand times before —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's like that first time all over again. They kiss and Kerry feels lighter than air, lighter than a song drifting through the ocean breeze as they skim along to unknown destinations. No longer is Kerry counting those melodies, no longer is he trying desperately to memorize what could have been, what should be, what might not be if V doesn't come home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No more. He kisses V and doesn't remember what number he's on, what day it is, how long it's been since he's bared his soul like this before. Surely he had at some point, but he can't remember, and it doesn't matter, now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wanna go fuck on a boat?" V asks when they pull away. His smirk is impish, crooked, and so V Kerry aches to see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kerry still laughs. "Yeah," he says. "My treat. You're lucky I carry condoms around, y'know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V's guffaw is loud in the cabin of the car. "Like I don't either."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry shakes his head as they get out. "I shoulda known a merc would be prepared. You bring a gun, too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V coquettishly reaches underneath his jacket and pulls out a familiar black revolver from his holster. "Would you still fuck me if I didn't?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry's laugh bounces off the boats and the water as they come together again. "Yeah. I guess I would. Sans gun, though, really. Not into the life or death thing like some people are."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V bumps his shoulder when their hands come together. "This coming from the guy that set a boat on fire while we fucked."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, this coming from the guy that set a boat on fire while we fucked. It's called adrenaline, V, not a death wish."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V sighs, shaking his head. He holsters Archangel, though he follows Kerry's eyes on it with a raised brow and a smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Carry it everywhere, you know," V says softly. "Even into Arasaka."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kerry can't breathe for one lasting moment. He'd given Archangel to V as a show of both good faith and a promise to himself to never make an attempt on his own life ever again. V had pulled the wool from his eyes, and from that gift came V's life, over and over and over again. Who knows how many times that gun had saved V's hide, how many times V had to pull the trigger to end another just to see the morning again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, does he love V. That he's fallen, hard, for a man that should be able to snap him in half and rob him for all that he's worth, but instead only asks for more time, time, time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. Kerry will give more than time, more than a clock counting down to some unidentifiable zero. He has his heart, his soul, and every lyric and chord and tune he could dream up. They have forever, now. They have the entirety of the lazy stretch of the horizon in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Love you, V," he says. Without asking, without needing much more. Just this, the roll of the ocean underneath their feet as they board the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Someday</span>
  </em>
  <span> and the cry of gulls overhead, a silence so encompassing Kerry wonders how he could live without it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>V smiles at him at the declaration. Framed by the setting sun behind him, by hues of pinks and oranges and purples that lace his hair and paint his cheeks. An angel in his own right, of life and death, of all that Kerry dreams of when rest finally finds him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Love you too, Ker," V says. Truthful, with that crooked smile. He meets Kerry at the beach deck as Kerry waves the boat into motion, dropping beside him on the leather cushions like he did so long ago when things were still tense, still new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's all Kerry wants, suddenly. This, with the steady beat of the ocean underneath them and the sky stretching out all around them. V pressed against him and the breath of new life flushing his cheeks, his neck, those lips Kerry knows so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clock stops, then. Right there on the boat between one press of lips and the next. The tension falls away and now Kerry can breathe, and for once in his long, long life, he feels the entirety of his life ahead of him and isn't scared anymore.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>come follow me on tumblr @ brightstarlings and twitter @qqquiet!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>